Caged In
by musical geek
Summary: Shawn always has been tough. He's never needed anybody's help-not that he'd admit, anyways. What happens when he finds himself in a dangerous situation and desperately needs help but can't ask for it, because if he does, the consequences are deadly?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Just as a little warning for anyone who likes stories that are strictly canon, this story is slightly AU. It also contains drug and alcohol references and some violence.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"So, Huck and Tom keep silent, effectively condemning an innocent man." Jonathan Turner, English teacher at John Adams High, sat on the edge of his desk as he addressed the students in front of him.

"That's pretty stupid, if you ask me," Shawn Hunter spoke up from the back of the room. Shawn had always been somewhat of a trouble student. He was often a handful, but he was a good kid. Though he always knew this, Turner found this even more so to be true after he had given the kid a temporary home . . . now a permanent one.

"Yeah, I know," the other student, Cory Matthews, chimed in with his buddy, never missing a beat. "Why didn't they just tell the cops?"

The girl directly in front of Cory, Topanga Lawrence, turned around to face her boyfriend and friend. "They were scared. If they told, they may have been killed for it."

"There's this nice little thing known as protective custody."

"Forget protective custody. All they would have to do is put on dresses and pretend to be their own long lost relatives. They could keep their lives in order and still be safe."

Those three always did provide entertaining debates.

Turner was about to speak when the bell rang. He quickly yelled, "Read chapters 13-17 for tomorrow," over the commotion of students gathering their things and leaving. He shook his head as the students filed out. Things were never dull around here.

SHSHSHSHSHSH

"So, my Shawn, have any plans for this afternoon?" Cory set his lunch tray down at their usual table in the center of the cafeteria before sitting down. Shawn set his tray down and sat next to Cory.

"Actually, yeah. I'm going to visit my dad." Shawn still lived with John, as John had adopted him, but his biological father was back in town. Chet may not be responsible for him anymore, but he was still his dad. He visited from time to time.

"Say hi for me."

"Sure thing. What about you? Any plans?"

"Topanga and I were going to hang out at Chubby's."

"Always fun."

The two sat and just talked about anything and everything, seemingly without a care in the world.

SHSHSHSHSHSH

"Hey Jason," Eric nudged his friend. "Check out that girl over there."

Jason looked where Eric was pointing. There was a blond hair, blue eyed beauty straight ahead. "You mean Jessica Stanton?"

"Yeah . . . yeah, her." Eric was practically drooling in anticipation of possibly meeting her.

"I don't think she's taken." Jason went back to picking at his food. "Go talk to her."

"Can't right now. She's surrounded by a pack of girls. I don't work in front of crowds."

SHSHSHSHSHSH

The unmistakable smell of whiskey greeted Shawn's nose the minute he walked in his trailer door—his old home. He stood in the doorway debating whether he should stay or leave. Along with the smell came quite a few memories—none of them pleasant.

Chet really wasn't _that _bad of a guy, when he was sober, anyways. He might not be the most responsible man. But he always did his best by his family . . . usually.

The problem was that he liked to drink . . . a lot. He was not exactly a kind drunk. Shawn knew that from personal experience. There was a time that he thought he deserved everything he got when his dad was in that state. There were still many times he did, but all the other people in his life, especially John, started to help him realize that he wasn't worthless. They didn't know about any of this—he hadn't told them—it was just what they had told him in response to other circumstances. It was this caring that helped him to start walking away once Chet had returned.

Chet knew he had a problem, but he also knew that he couldn't stop. Maybe he didn't want to. He wanted his son to have a better life. Since he was incapable of providing that, he gave his son up to a man who would take care of his boy. In some ways, it was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. In many other ways, it wasn't as hard as it should have been.

"Who's there?" Chet's gruff voice slurred from a chair.

Shawn stepped back outside and quietly closed the door. He'd come back another day.

He just walked around at a leisurely pace, thinking about how much his life had changed since he had moved in with John. John pushed him to be and to do his best. Shawn couldn't just settle like everyone at the trailer park had always expected. He, too, wanted to do better.

He stopped when he heard voices up ahead and lifted his gaze. There was a fairly decent sized group of people all crowding around a teen he would guess to be a few years older than he was. The crowd was pushing him around—a gang.

Shawn ducked behind a dumpster before anyone could spot him.

"Where's the money?" A tall muscular man gripped the cowering, wiry teen's shirt. The man sported a good amount of stubble, causing his twisted features to appear even more menacing.

"I don't have it," the teen screeched.

"We had a deal. We gave you the crack. You couldn't pay us then, so we gave you a week to come up with the money. The week's come and gone, my friend. Time's up."

The gang closed in an even tighter circle around him, a few thugs cracking their knuckles or pounding a fist into their hands. The teen looked around. His Adam's apple visibly rose and fell. "Just give me a little more time! I'll have the money for you! I promise!"

"You have two days." The tall man, presumably the leader, roughly let go of the teen's shirt, shoving him back a little bit. He crinkled his nose in disgust as the teen sighed in relief and began thanking him profusely. "Don't thank me yet." He smiled wickedly. "Well, boys, why don't we give our little friend here a little taste of what's to come if he doesn't pay up?"

The teen franticly walked around in a little circle, trying to find an escape route. None was to be had. Fists started flying, followed by feet when the teen huddled on the ground. Shawn had to look away. Only a short while passed before the leader decided he'd had enough for now and let the teen go.

As he saw that the gang was distracted by watching their prey's retreat, Shawn slowly backed away from the dumpster, preparing to run as soon as he felt it safe to do so. A loud crackling noise sliced through the park. Shawn closed his eyes and mentally swore. He had stepped on a partially crushed can. It was now or never.

Shawn opened his eyes and bolted. All he could hear was the arrhythmic pounding of his heart and his ragged breathing. The wind rushed by his face and ruffled his hair until he ran into something solid.

No, not something . . .

Someone.

"Where do you think you're going?"

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there's Chapter 1. I hope you liked it! Chapter 2 should be up within a week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Boy Meets World.

**A/N: **Thank you Jessica for the review! And thank you everyone who read the first chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Shawn looked around. He had the gang's full attention now. They were closing in on him as they had done to the other teen just moments prior. It was time to think fast.

"Well, you see, I just heard a little while ago that they're having a really good sale on spray paint at Walmart. I wanted to get there before they sold out. Do you want me to get some for you? No charge." Shawn inwardly cringed. Definitely not his best work, but nothing would be good in this situation. They caught him running. That was about as incriminating as it could get.

The man he presumed to be the leader slowly circled Shawn, sizing him up as he went around. "Spray paint is for kids." He stood in front of Shawn and sneered. "No, I think you saw something that you shouldn't have and were heading for the cops."

"Saw what? I didn't see anything."

"Oh, but I think you did."

"That's impossible. I lost my glasses . . . can barely see a foot in front of my face."

"Funny, you don't seem to be squinting now."

Was it just Shawn's imagination or did the gang practically form a cage around him—an incredibly small cage that was getting smaller by the second?

"Squinting is bad for you. I lose my glasses a lot. I've learned how to keep from doing it." Shawn knew the gang wasn't buying it, but he couldn't stop himself. "This is a nice place you've got here. Fix it up yourselves?"

"Shut that mouth of yours before I shut it for you," one of the bigger thugs growled at him. It looked like the guy had muscles on his muscles. His bald head, cut off sleeveless shirt, and tattooed arms just added to the lovely picture. And he had been afraid of the Enforcer . . . .

"Shutting up now." Shawn backed up a step when he saw the thug take a threatening step towards him with a raised fist. He backed right into another thug, a man who looked like an older version of Harley Keiner . . . and made Harley look nice.

The leader smirked a little. "Does anyone have any good reason why we should let this no-good little spy live?"

"I'm too young to die?" Shawn laughed nervously when the gang didn't respond at all.

"No one?" The leader prompted. "Well, then . . . ."

Evil Harley grabbed hold of Shawn from behind as the leader prepared to begin hitting him. The gang members closest to them looked like they were preparing to join in as well.

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable.

"Wait!"

Shawn's eyes snapped open. Everyone paused and turned towards the speaker. Shawn knew that voice.

The leader did not look happy. "You better have a good reason for this, Hunter."

Eddie Hunter stepped forward before speaking. "Why kill a possible new recruit?"

"I'm listening."

"He's my half-brother on my father's side. He had to have inherited some of my better qualities. If we train him, he may become another useful member of this gang."

"He doesn't seem to be all that tough."

"I heard he blew up a mailbox once."

The leader turned back towards Shawn and gave him a calculating look. "Is this true, kid?"

Shawn opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat before trying again. "Yes, it is."

The leader continued to stare at him before giving a slight nod of his head and turning back to Eddie. "So, Hunter, you're suggesting we just let him in based on that and trust he won't go running to the cops."

"He won't," Eddie supplied.

"You're right, he won't," the leader confirmed. "Because if he does, he's dead."

Shawn straightened and shrugged his shoulders, causing evil Harley's already loose grip to slip, as the leader turned towards him again. He forced himself to stay still and keep a hardened expression as the leader scrutinized him once more.

"Alright kid, here's the deal. You work for us, and we'll let you live. You squeal to anyone, and we'll kill you and anyone you've told. I'm sure Eddie here would be happy to tell us all about you. You make the deal and don't show, we'll find you. What do you say?"

Shawn stared right into the leader's eyes after glancing at his outstretched hand. It was odd. In that instant, he had a flashback to his English class that very morning. He remembered his reaction to hearing how Tom and Huck had reacted to a similar situation, though _they_ didn't have a confrontation. He remembered his conviction that he wouldn't react how they did. He would do the right thing and tell the cops. He was naïve.

He stuck out his hand and firmly grasped the leader's hand. "It's a deal." The two gave a firm, one-pump handshake before releasing their grip.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Eli and John just stood in John's apartment reminiscing about some of the funniest times they recalled in their friendship. They used to do some pretty stupid things. In a sense, their friendship was very much like that of Cory and Shawn.

They looked up when Shawn walked in. "Hi," Shawn greeted when he saw them. They greeted him in return.

"Hey, Shawn, how did the visit go?" John remembered Shawn telling him he was planning on stopping by the trailer park to visit his dad.

Shawn plastered on the biggest smile he could manage. "It was great! We just talked about anything and everything. He even said he thinks he saw mom at the store the other day. I've given up believing that she'll ever return, but I didn't have the heart to tell him. It's better to just let him continue believing it."

"Is he planning on taking off after her again?"

"I don't know. He didn't say." Shawn shrugged, adopting the far off look he always got before John had adopted him, when his father was still off who knows where. In a matter of seconds, he focused back on the two men in front of him. "He did tell me to thank you again, for everything. He mentioned something about wanting to throw you a big trailer park party as a thank you."

John gave a slight wince before trying to look like he appreciated it. He failed. Shawn grinned inwardly. He knew John would never go for it. "Tell him that's not necessary. I took you in because I wanted to. He doesn't need to thank me for that."

Shawn gave a genuine smile. It was always nice to be reminded that he was wanted.

Eli couldn't help smiling as well. The two best decisions his friend had ever made were taking Shawn in and then later adopting him. The moment could only last so long, however. They were guys. They didn't do emotion well.

"Well, kiddo," John began, "why don't you go do your homework?"

"Who needs homework?" Shawn settled down on the couch and picked up the remote. He looked up to see John glaring at him. "Alright, I'm going, I'm going." He threw the remote back on the coffee table before heading back to his room.

Sometimes he almost hated how good he had gotten at acting. His ability to read people had always aided this. He knew everyone's limits—at least of those he had to fool.

He sighed before propping pillows up against the backboard of his bed, grabbing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and then getting comfortable. For once, he was actually interested in reading a book—genuinely interested, not just interested in finishing it so that he could avoid taking a test or get a good grade on a pop quiz. He actually wanted to read it. Heck, he was living the conflict. He wanted advice, but couldn't turn to anyone. In a way, he hoped the book could offer some.

He started reading from the beginning, settling down for a long reading session. He didn't read anything for that day's class, after all, so he had quite a bit of reading to do.

* * *

**A/N: **There's chapter 2. I hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Boy Meets World or West Side Story.

**A/N: **Thanks for the review Sarah (ImAGiver)! I always appreciate any and all feedback. Also, thank you everyone who has read this story so far! I was floored when I looked at the story stats and saw how many hits this has already.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Hey, Jessica. How's it going?" Eric said as he walked over to the blond. "You might not know me, but I'm Eric—"

"Matthews. I know." She smiled at him and at his sidekick, Jason, flipping her long hair in the process. "I've been meaning to talk to the two of you."

"You have?" Jason asked.

Eric elbowed him before whispering, "She says she has. Don't question it." Eric's cheesy weatherman smile blossomed.

"You see, I . . . no, I couldn't possibly ask you that." She lowered her head and looked up through her eyelashes at Eric.

"A-a-ask me what? I mean us. You said you wanted to ask us."

"Well, I needed to ask a huge favor of you, but I don't want to put you out or anything."

"You wouldn't be putting us out. We'll do anything." Eric's eyes never left Jessica's face. "Isn't that right Jason?" There was complete silence. "Jason?" He elbowed him again.

Jason yelped and glared at Eric before smiling at Jessica. "What he said. Anything."

"Well, ok then, I'm part of the drama club and we're presenting West Side Story this spring, but we don't have nearly enough guys. I was hoping that you two could audition and be a part of the show."

"West Side Story," Jason repeated slowly. "That's a musical, right?"

"Sure, no problem," Eric replied.

"Thank you so much, guys." Jessica smiled at Eric. "Just remember, you can pick up the audition materials any time from the drama room. The audition sign up sheet will be posted on Monday, the singing and acting audition is on Tuesday, and the dance audition is on Wednesday. Thanks again guys and good luck. I'll see you around, Eric."

"Wait, did you just say dance?" Jason called after her. She just kept on walking.

Eric stood with a dumbfounded, lovesick look on his face. "I like her."

Jason stared between his friend and the retreating form of the she-devil, in his opinion. He grabbed his books and started whacking Eric on the arm. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"Hey! What was that for?"

"You idiot. Do you have any idea what you just volunteered us for?"

"What did I do now?"

"We have to audition for a freaking musical."

"Say what?"

"Say musical. You and me dancing around and singing like hippies on steroids."

"Aw man."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Jonathan Turner stood in front of his lethargic English class. No debates had started. There hadn't even been one outlandish comment from the peanut gallery yet. In fact, no one had spoken but him. He found that trying to get his students to talk that day would be like pulling teeth . . . no, it seemed it would be even harder than that with the way things were going.

"Come on," he said, exasperated. "Someone has to have an opinion about something." John sat down on the edge of his desk and started idly flipping through the book. "Alright, what did you think about the kids running to the island."

"That was pretty cool. If I had the guts to do it, I'd give it a try," Cory spoke up.

Well, it was a start. "Matthews thinks it was cool. Anyone else have an opinion?"

"I think it was pretty immature," Topanga said. "They ran off playing pirates, not even thinking about how it would affect those they left behind. When the others thought they died, and they knew this, they still continued with their fooling around when they should have gone home."

"It was an escape." Shawn's voice was soft, but sure.

"An escape . . . interesting. What would make you say that, Hunter?"

"First off, they were very insecure. They thought that no one cared, so they decided there was no reason to stay. Once they were gone and the others thought they were dead, they saw they were wrong. They knew things would change if they returned, and they didn't want to go back to the way things were. Secondly, they witnessed a murder. The murderer lied. No one but the two witnesses knew the truth, but they were too afraid to say anything. If they ran away, they could pretend that nothing happened. Everything was fine. They had nothing to feel guilty about because nothing was wrong—they weren't withholding information about anything because nothing happened. They also didn't have to worry about the killer, because they were on their own island. They were also presumed dead later. What better way to hide out and stay safe than to fake your own death?"

"Yeah, but they weren't even thinking about that anymore," Topanga rebutted.

"Maybe not consciously."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute." Cory shifted around in his seat so he could face Shawn. "You actually read the book?"

"So what if I did?"

"You never do the readings. What gives?"

John could step in. He really could. The thing was, he was interested in the answer as well. This was a rare occurrence. Not only did Shawn complete all of the homework, but he gave an insightful interpretation as well. He was very proud of Shawn for this. He was also curious about what caused this change in Shawn.

"I guess I just thought it might be worth reading after class yesterday. I mean, Tom sounded like a pretty cool character to me."

"Yeah, in fact he actually kind of sounds like you." Cory rubbed his chin, looking back at his friend.

Shawn smiled the cockiest smile he could manage. "Why do you think I like him?"

Cory turned back towards the front as class resumed. Shawn, however, was miles away, mentally scolding himself for his huge mistake. He should never have spoken up, no matter how strongly he felt about that topic at the time. He had to remember that this was just a fictional novel. Cory was right. The character Tom did remind him of himself in many ways. That's probably why he got so into it . . . why he couldn't keep from speaking up. He felt like he was defending himself rather than a fictional character.

He wouldn't run like Tom and his friends, though the thought had crossed his mind several times since his run-in with the gang. The fact was that he couldn't. No matter how much he may have wanted to just run from everything and forget that it happened, he couldn't. He couldn't, because if he did, the gang would hunt him down. If he did, John could be hurt or worse. Everyone he cared about could be brought into this mess. No, Shawn wouldn't run away from this. He would face it head on and deal with it as best as he could. The tricky part was making sure no one ever found out.

The bell rang what seemed like ages later, effectively snapping Shawn back to the present. He kept his head down while he gathered his books and supplies. He refused to meet the eyes he knew were trained on him. There were still several hours left of the school day—several more hours he could let something slip. He already messed up once. The door was right there. All he had to do was make it a little farther and maybe he could avoid talking to Cory before their next class.

"Hey Shawn, wait up." So much for that idea.

Shawn stopped and glanced down at his watch. Only a few seconds had passed since class had ended. There was still over four minutes before their next class. Their next class was only a few doors down from this one. Damn. He slumped back against the lockers behind him and waited for Cory and Topanga.

"That was one long class. I can't believe I actually stayed awake. I'll have to catch up on some sleep in history." Shawn kept his quirky grin in place all the while.

Topanga rolled her eyes as Cory just grinned at his friend. "So seriously," Cory began, "why did you really do the reading?"

Shawn straightened up and put his hands in his pockets. "I told you already." He hoped he looked relaxed.

"Come on," Topanga chimed in. "I didn't even buy that either."

Sighing, Shawn ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't tell them the truth. He didn't want to lie point blank either. What could he tell them?

"I don't know . . . I guess I just wanted John to be proud of me. It's not like I've given him much to work with. I know it's not much, but I figured . . . I figured . . . ."

"What better way to impress him than to actually do your homework for once when he knows you never actually do it?" Cory finished for him.

"Yeah." The strange thing was, Shawn didn't feel like he lied to them. It wasn't the initial reason he did the homework, but it still seemed to ring true. He looked up to John. John was the first stable father figure he had. He didn't want to mess anything up.

"Well, I'm sure he's very proud, my Shawn. How couldn't he be?" Cory slung his one arm over Shawn's shoulders and his other over Topanga's as the three headed off to their next class.

John stood in the doorway of his classroom watching the trio walk away. He would make sure he talked to Shawn later. Shawn was a good kid. He was proud of him. It was time Shawn realized just how proud.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Boy Meets World or West Side Story.

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews Tiffanie, Jessica, and Rogue (Fiona12690)! I'm glad you like it so far. I did add some interaction between Shawn and John in this chapter. Unfortunately there are parts in the story line that won't allow for interaction, but I promise that they will interact when possible.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Shawn read a book?" Eli asked. Both he and George stared at John in shock. John confirmed it again. "Shawn Hunter—the boy who uses class time to nap, who thinks you teach math, who refers to the great American president Abraham Lincoln as the cool dude with a beard—_that_ Shawn Hunter opened a book, actually read it, and said something in class?"

"Yes."

"Something constructive?" George Feeny asked.

"Yes, he did," John said for what had to have been the fifth time in just over a minute. He would have given a sarcastic reply if he hadn't been so shocked himself.

"Man, I wish I could have been there to see that," Eli said. "Maybe then I might have actually believed it."

John sighed in exasperation. "Shawn's a good kid. It's taken a while, but I think he's finally decided to make a change in his life and take more responsibility."

Even as John said it, he couldn't help but feel that something was off. Just last week, Shawn had skipped school again. Cory claimed he had the Tasmanian sloth that time. This change just seemed too sudden. He knew that Shawn needed a true father figure and that he sought approval, whether he would admit it or not, but that had never been a push for Shawn before. Why now?

He shook himself out of it. Shawn was a good kid. He'd give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Heck, when it really came down to it, he didn't care what changed Shawn's mind about school work. It couldn't be anything bad, after all.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Eric and Jason paced in Eric's kitchen, crossing paths from time to time. The two remained silent for what seemed like an eternity for the two.

Alan and Amy Matthews came down the stairs and, unbeknownst to the two frantic teens, stood watching them.

"I've got it!" Eric finally cried out. The two ceased their pacing and stood face to face. "We tell them we've got some kind of disease or something that acts up when we sing and dance. We didn't know about it before because we had never tried that before."

"And what would this disease be called?" Jason asked.

"Musicalitis?"

"What about musicalitis?" Alan made his presence known.

"Well, you see, Mr. Matthews, your son volunteered us to be in the musical, and we can't be in a musical."

"You _volunteered_ to be in a musical?" Amy asked, incredulous.

"I didn't actually know what I was volunteering for at the time."

"Really?" Alan asked.

"A girl asked him."

"Ah."

"So you see, we were forced into it against our will. We can't go through with it. It wouldn't be right," Eric said.

"Uh huh," Alan said. "You're doing the musical."

"What? Why?"

"You told her you would audition, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"No buts."

The two boys slumped over.

"What musical is it?" Amy asked.

"West Side Story," Jason answered.

"Oh, I love that show. It's so romantic, yet so sad. In fact, I have it on video if you two want to see it."

The two looked at one another. What could it hurt? They may as well see what they got themselves into.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn dragged his feet along the ground as he walked through the trailer park. Man, how he wished he could be anywhere but here right now. But a deal was a deal. He couldn't back out now, no matter how much he wanted to. He walked right past his old trailer and over towards where he first met the gang. They were all gathered there again.

Shawn took a deep breath. 'Here goes nothing,' he thought, and he kept on walking onward.

"Well, what do you know? The kid actually showed," the leader said as he spotted him. The gang members all turned towards Shawn. Two exchanged money, having apparently placed a bet over whether he would come or not.

"What do you want me to do?" Shawn didn't really want an answer, but he figured the sooner he got started, the sooner he could get out of there.

The leader looked him over and gave a small nod. "All business. I like that." Somehow the leader's approval didn't make Shawn feel any better. "You see those boxes over there?" He pointed towards a small stack of boxes off to the side. "One contains Ziploc bags. The rest contain canisters with the powdered drugs. Fill each of the bags with the drugs. Think you can handle that?"

Shawn walked past him and over towards the boxes. He grabbed a bag and then opened to first drug canister. He just stood there looking down at it, unable to believe what he was about to do. He hated this situation. He was finally turning his life around, and now . . . .

"Something wrong, kid?" The leader asked from right behind Shawn. He did not sound happy.

"How much should I put in each bag?"

Eddie came over and handed him a small cup, which was probably about the size of a ½ measuring cup.

Shawn couldn't even bring himself to say 'thanks.' He hesitated another moment before digging the cup in the powder, measuring it out, and pouring it into the bag. He didn't even know how many times he repeated this process before he left. The entire time, he just kept reminding himself that it could have been worse.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Eric and Jason sat on the couch in the living room of the Matthews' house. They both held closed fists in front of their mouths and had looks of horror on their faces as they watched the video of West Side Story. With each note sung and each dance step completed, their horror grew. What had they gotten themselves into?

"Thugs should not have to dance," Eric said as the ending credits rolled.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Shawn, can I talk to you for a minute?" John asked as he saw Shawn come out of his room later that night.

Shawn tensed for a minute and immediately started trying to figure out how he could have screwed up. Any time adults said they wanted to talk to him, it usually meant he was in trouble.

"Relax," John said to him, having apparently noticed Shawn's discomfort. "You're not in trouble."

Shawn walked over to sit next to John on the couch. "What's up?"

"I'm proud of you, kiddo. I may not say it often, but it's true."

Shawn just stared at him for a moment, not sure if he heard him right. That's not something he had heard often. "Because I did my homework for a change?"

"No . . . well, yes, I am proud of you for that, but it's more than that. You're a good kid." Shawn gave him an incredulous look at that. "I mean, no, you're no angel all the time, but you do the right thing in the end most of the time."

Shawn looked away at that. Yeah. He sure did the right thing earlier that day. Helping a gang with their drug ring was certainly the right thing to do. On the other hand, all sarcasm aside, if he hadn't—he didn't even want to think about that. Man, how he hated the morally gray areas of life.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Nothing. It's just, I— It's nothing." Shawn wanted to tell him what was going on. He really did, but he couldn't.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

The two just sat there in silence, each waiting for the other to say something. Shawn shifted as the silence dragged on to the point of being unnerving. "So, since you're proud of me even when I don't do homework—"

John glared at him.

"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I'm sorry for the long wait everyone. I've uploaded two chapters to somewhat make up for it. Thank you Jessica, Nike316, Ghostwriter, whatnowat3, and marie for reviewing!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Eric and Jason slowly made their way through the halls of John Adams High the following day, dreading what it was they had to do. Unfortunately, it seemed they had to suck it up and do the musical. They had to pick up the audition packets today so that they could learn the song and practice whatever scene they had to perform for the acting audition.

Suddenly Eric just stopped and turned towards his friend. "You know, I've been thinking."

"Well that's a first," Jason said.

"I don't think this will be _that_ bad."

Jason stood there doing a good impression of a fish with the way he kept opening and closing his mouth. "How," he finally managed to get out.

"Well, just think about it . . . . There will be girls."

"Yeah . . . and . . ."

"Lots and lots of girls . . . ."

Jason just gave him a blank look.

"Girls who will be extremely happy with us for doing the show."

Jason smiled. "Now you're thinking!"

"My thoughts exactly."

Jason just looked at Eric before shaking his head. It was amazing sometimes how Eric managed to pass anything. "Come on," he said, "let's just get this over with."

The two friends went on their way to pick up the packets, this time with a little less reluctance.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

John stood in front of the chalkboard in his classroom, writing his next class's assignment in the corner of the board.

"Hey John," he heard Eli say from behind him. He turned around to face him.

"Hey, Eli. What's up?"

"Well, I've got an extra ticket to the 76ers game tonight. Do you want to go?"

"Your date cancelled?"

"My date cancelled."

"Well, I can't pass up a free ticket."

"Who said anything about free?"

John pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

Eli told him an amount, and John wrote out a check.

Some students started drifting into the classroom and sitting down.

"I'll see you tonight," Eli said as he left the room.

"See you." John sat down on his desk as he waited for the rest of the students to arrive and for the bell to ring.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Cory waved his hand in front of Shawn's face from across the table at Chubby's, trying to get his attention. "You okay there, buddy?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you haven't been listening to a word I've said since you got here? And then there's that little fact that you usually talk too? What gives?"

Shawn shifted in his seat a little. "It's nothing, really. I'm just tired. Actually doing homework takes a lot of time."

Cory just looked at him for a moment before just nodding to himself, seemingly accepting Shawn's answer. "Yeah, I guess it would take some time to adjust to that."

"That'll teach me to actually do something productive for a change. If you give in once, everyone will expect you to keep doing it."

"Yeah, I hear you." The silence stretched on as Cory waited for Shawn to say something. He gave up waiting. "Do you want to come over my place and hang for a while?"

"Nah, I think I'll pass for today. John and I have plans."

"All right. Well, have fun."

Shawn just nodded.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Hey, Shawn."

Shawn looked up after he closed the door to see John sitting on the couch. He muttered his greeting before heading towards his room. John's voice stopped him for a moment.

"Eli and I are going to the 76ers game tonight."

"I take it his date cancelled?"

John smiled. "Yep. If you go out, just make sure to be back by ten."

"No prob." He started to walk away again.

"And do your homework."

Shawn just kept walking. He closed his door behind him before sprawling out on his bed and looking up at the ceiling. On the bright side, he wouldn't have to lie to John about where he was going tonight. He'd be kidding himself if he thought that he was relieved by that. No matter how much the thought of what would happen if anyone found out what was going on terrified him, he couldn't help but hope that someone would figure it out—that he could find some way out of this mess. He knew that hope was futile.

No time like the present to do homework. At least it would keep his mind busy. He pulled his book bag over to his bed, opened it, and pulled out _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you liked the chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Shawn scooped out cup after cup of the drugs, pouring it all into the different plastic bags. He hated this. Thanks to John going out, he didn't have to lie through his teeth beforehand, but he would have to put on a smile tomorrow when John inevitably asked how his night was. Normally, he had no trouble coming up with stories, but usually he was content with the reason behind why he needed to lie. It just didn't feel right in this case.

Whether it felt right or not, though, didn't make a damn difference. He didn't exactly have much of a choice. It was either lie or . . . well—Shawn barely kept himself from shuddering.

"Hey, kid."

Shawn hadn't even heard the man approach. He looked up but didn't even bother to respond.

"Kid, we've got another shipment coming in this weekend. Be here at 7. And keep your whole weekend free. We're going to an old warehouse. You're not leaving till we do."

"I can't."

"I wasn't asking."

"No, I mean, I really can't. Not if you want me to keep this secret. People will get suspicious."

"Find a way."

"Oh, yeah. What was I thinking? Of course I can. I'll just walk out of my apartment, tell John I'll see him on Monday and go on my merry way. I'm sure John would just love that."

Shawn quit talking and doubled over as the leader punched him hard in the stomach. He backed away and glared at the leader, before realizing he liked being alive and adopted a neutral expression instead.

"Find a way."

"Yes, sir." Shawn barely stopped himself from mock saluting him. He turned back to what he had been doing before. He shifted slightly. The dull pain in his abdomen was annoyingly persistent. He dug into the canister and scooped out the powder. It looked so harmless. If he didn't already know any better, he'd think it was just some sort of baking mix or something. He pulled an open plastic bag closer, gripping one side of the open top.

What was he going to tell John? He couldn't just leave without saying anything. What could he possibly say to him that he would not only believe but actually agree with?

He dumped the powder into the bag.

John hardly ever believed any of the lies he told before.

He dropped the measuring cup back into the canister.

Then again, the lies he had told John before were pretty paper thin—well . . . most of the lies, anyways.

He closed the top of the bag.

The only times his lies were ever believable was when he really and truly didn't want to be caught.

He threw the bag down into a box. It was a wonder the bag didn't break open. It fell with an audible plop.

What had he gotten himself into?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"That game was amazing, man. I mean who would have thought they could turn the game around like that and win after the other team was crushing them," Eli said.

"Shh," John said as he closed the apartment door behind him and turned the lights on. He looked at the clock. It was past eleven. "Shawn's probably already asleep. I don't want to wake him."

"Right. Sorry." Eli, too, looked at the clock. "I should probably get going anyways. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you."

John quietly moved about the apartment. For some reason he couldn't quite understand, he just felt that he needed to make sure Shawn was actually here. He went over to Shawn's room and quietly opened the door.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes when he heard the door open. He stayed that way until he heard the tell-tale click of the door closing. He couldn't sleep, but he didn't want John to know that. He had way too much on his mind, but it wasn't like he could talk about that. So he had to just lay there and wait until his thoughts quieted down enough to let him fall asleep. He couldn't wait for that to happen, because while asleep, he could just let all his worries float away while he was caught up in the blissful obliviousness that came with sleep.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSSHSHSH

Shawn woke the next morning to the sounds of John making breakfast. From the smell of it, he had to guess he was making omelets or something similar. His stomach growled. He turned over and snuggled in his blankets. The last thing he felt like doing was getting up and doing, well, anything. He just lay there with his eyes closed and started to feel himself drifting off to sleep again. His stomach rumbled again, jerking him back to full consciousness. He turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. No matter how tempting the idea was, he couldn't stay in bed and play sick all day.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat there for a moment, rubbing his eyes. He had to come up with something to tell John about this weekend. He never did get to that point the night before. All he could keep thinking about was how much his life sucked at the moment. His bedroom door loomed before him, seeming more like a giant hurdle at the moment rather than the easy and short walk that it was in reality. He paused at the threshold and put on the happiest face he could muster at that moment, without it being suspicious, and walked out of his room to join John.

John looked up from the skillet to see Shawn coming his way. "Good morning, kiddo."

"Good morning." Shawn sat down on one of the stools at the table facing the kitchen. John cut the omelet in half and placed one part on each plate. Shawn didn't hesitate to dig in, barley muttering a "thanks" beforehand.

John just shook his head before joining Shawn at the table.

"How was the game last night?" Shawn asked.

"It was the best game I'd seen in a long time. The 76ers were losing until after halftime. They managed to turn it around. It was a close game. How was your night?"

Shawn forced himself not to cringe. "It was okay. I went over Cory's for a while. We played a few rounds of Mario Kart. I kicked his butt as usual."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

Shawn cracked a smile at that one. The smile faded as soon as he remembered the truth of the previous night. There was no time like the present. "Hey, is it okay if I go away this weekend?"

John stopped eating and just looked at Shawn. "Where?"

"Well, dad wants to take me on a road trip. We've been talking about it for a while, and he's finally decided that we should go this weekend. I'm not sure where all he's planned." Shawn held his breath.

John didn't respond right away. He didn't want to keep Shawn from spending time with Chet. The man was Shawn's biological father, after all, but something just seemed off about Shawn. Usually, Shawn would be excited about this sort of thing, but he seemed anything but. "Is this something you want to do?"

Shawn hesitated. It was time to fake enthusiasm. "Yeah, of course! Why wouldn't I? I mean, as long as it's okay with you, that is."

John relaxed. It seemed Shawn was just worried about his feelings towards it. "Yeah, it's okay."

"Great!" Shawn got up. "I should probably finish getting ready."

John stared after him as he left the table. Shawn had come a long way since he had adopted him. He had been such an insecure kid. I mean, no wonder. First his mother left, and then his father abandoned him to go look for her. When his father returned, it was only long enough for him to ask John if he would adopt Shawn, saying that the kid deserved someone who would always be there for him—something Chet could never do. He did eventually return this way again, but he never tried to reclaim custody of his son.

Over time, Shawn did seem to improve, but now he seemed to be going backwards again. John couldn't help but wonder what was causing this. He had a bad feeling he couldn't shake that something was horribly wrong. He just shook his head. It was probably nothing, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Boy Meets World.

**A/N: **Thank you Nike316, Ghostwriter, and Sarah for your reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Remember, your papers on the Civil War are due on Monday," Mr. Feeny said over the outburst of students talking after the bell rang.

Shawn gathered his things and waited for Cory to finish gathering his.

"Do you want to hang with Topanga and me tonight? We're probably going to Chubby's." The two friends walked out of the classroom and over towards their lockers.

"Actually," Shawn began, "I can't." He opened his locker and tried to sound casual as he shoved his books in his locker. "John and I are going away for the weekend. He's taking me to that new amusement park that just opened up."

"And you're just telling me now? You've been holding out on me, Shawn."

"He just told me about it the other day. He wanted it to be a surprise."

"Cool."

Topanga joined them just after they finished putting their books in their lockers. The three headed over to lunch then, Cory and Topanga talking about their plans for that weekend.

SHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Back at John and Shawn's apartment, Shawn just packed the bare necessities for that weekend, not even sure if he would even need all of that. He only packed one change of clothing. He probably wouldn't even bother to change at all until right before he returned home, after all. He dragged his feet as he went over to the bathroom. His toothbrush and toothpaste made the cut. That was it for the toiletries, though he did pause staring at his comb and some soap before determining it was pointless to bring them. If he really felt the need to deal with his hair, his fingers would work just fine. It's not like he had anyone to impress. As for the soap, well . . . what were the chances he'd actually get to shower?

John stood watching Shawn. He'd never seen the kid move this slow. Usually when something concerned Chet he was, if not quick with enthusiasm, at least moving at a normal pace and content. The kid seemed to be depressed and nervous. Something just wasn't adding up.

Shawn finally closed his duffel bag—another process that took much longer than it should have—and walked out of his room with the bag over his shoulder and head down. If he had been moving any slower, he wouldn't have been moving at all.

"You all ready to go, kiddo?" John asked.

Shawn looked up and met his gaze. "Yeah, I can't wait." Shawn's smile seemed forced. John just shook his head, assuming he must just be imagining it.

"I'll take you over there if you'd like."

"Sure. Thanks."

The entire ride there, Shawn was silent. He had to spend an entire weekend with a gang full of people who would jump at the chance to hurt him if he even so much as breathed the wrong way. It was kind of hard to forget that when the time was looming ever closer. How the hell had he gotten himself into this?

"Well, we're here," John said, breaking Shawn out of his thoughts.

Shawn looked up startled. He hadn't even realized they had reached the trailer park, let alone arrived at his old trailer. He got off the bike, the duffle still over his shoulder.

John watched him for a minute, as the kid still seemed to be moving as if he were part of a funeral march. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Shawn looked up at him and gave a small smile. "I know."

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. John broke eye contact first. "If you need anything, just give me a call."

Shawn shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay." He didn't make any move to leave.

John looked at him in confusion. Why wasn't he leaving? He wanted to talk to Shawn about it—to find out what was so obviously bothering him. He fought that urge down. Shawn was probably just seeking some final sign of permission. It had to be strange having two fathers, even if one was only through adoption. He gave Shawn a small smile, saying, "Have fun."

"Thanks." Shawn hesitated long enough to give John what almost passed as a smile before turning around and moving towards the trailer.

John waited until the door closed behind Shawn. He just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had been building over the past couple days. He was worried. He'd admit it. There didn't seem to be a reason for it, though. It was probably nothing, after all.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Hey, Shawn! How ya doin'?" Chet said as he saw his son walk in.

"Hi, dad. I'm doing good. You?"

"Great. Same as usual."

Shawn moved over to sit on the couch and set the bag down on the floor beside him. He was happy to notice he couldn't smell any alcohol, today. His dad was sober. Always a good sign.

Chet moved over his way and joined him. "What's the bag for? You're not running away, are you?"

Shawn looked away. "No. No, of course not. John and I are going away for the weekend. I wanted to see you before we left. We're leaving straight from here."

"Good. I was hoping you didn't take after your old man that way. I'd hate to think I passed that on to you."

Shawn looked up at that. "You were great, dad."

"Well . . . ." Chet stood up and headed for the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm good. I should actually get going. John's waiting outside."

"So soon? Thanks for stopping in, anyways."

"Bye."

Shawn headed for the door. He wished he didn't have to lie so much. The click of the door had never sounded so final to his ears as it did just then.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"Mr. Feeny! Feeheeheenay!"

Jason stood by Eric, looking anywhere but at him, when the door finally opened.

Mr. Feeny glared at Eric. "A simple knock would have sufficed."

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?"

"What did you want?"

Jason stepped forward before Eric could say anything. "We were hoping you could do us a favor?"

Mr. Feeny looked between the two boys. He raised an eyebrow in question and waved his hand to indicate they should just get on with it.

"Well, uh, you see, sir, we're going to audition for the musical." Jason practically had to choke the last parts of that out. He shuddered once he finished.

Mr. Feeny burst out laughing. The two boys just kept looking at him with the gravest of expressions on their faces. Several moments passed before he was able to get back under control. "Sorry, boys." He forcibly suppressed the rest of his laughter, but couldn't help the amused expression on his face. "I thought that was a joke. I take it a girl was involved?"

"What else?" Eric asked.

"What do you want me to do, exactly?"

"We were hoping you could keep us from making idiots out of ourselves."

"I'm not God."

Eric just looked back at him with a confused expression on his face.

"What my friend here is trying to say, is that we were hoping you could keep us from making any bigger idiots out of ourselves than absolutely necessary by helping us with the music. You see, we don't know what any of this," Jason held up the offending piece of music, "means."

"Well," Mr. Feeny said slowly, "I do know a thing or two about music."

"Thanks! You're the greatest," Eric said.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?"

"I don't know. I mean, we're both lovable."

"I think that was rhetorical," Jason said.

"Huh?"

Jason raised his index finger and opened his mouth to respond, before deciding it wasn't worth it. He lowered his hand and shook his head.

"Just smile and nod," Mr. Feeny said.

Eric put on his cheesy weatherman smile and did just that.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Cory sat on the couch in his living room, idly flipping through the channels.

"Ooh, muffins," he said as he settled on the Food Network. He started jotting the recipe down on a piece of scrap paper. Maybe he and Topanga could make these someday.

"Is Shawn coming over?"

Cory looked behind him to see his father standing there.

"No, he and John are going away for the weekend."

"That'll be good for them. Give them a chance to bond." Alan sat down next to Cory. "What are you watching?"

"Something on the Food Network. They're making these Apple Strudel muffins that just look delicious. Topanga will love them."

Alan raised his eyebrows and muttered, "Boy, you are whipped."

"What was that?" Cory looked away from the paper he was writing on just long enough to glance at Alan.

"Nothing."

A car commercial came on the television. Cory finished the directions he had been writing down and then looked at the clock. "Hey, dad?"

"Yeah."

"Could you give me a ride to Chubbie's tonight? I'm supposed to meet Topanga there in an hour."

"Yeah, sure. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"Give me the remote."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"This is some weather we've been having," Shawn said. He stood by the two thugs with his hands in his pockets. The three had been there for a few minutes already. They were waiting in this back alley by their stolen red pick-up truck for the drug shipment to come in. Shawn stood there, waiting for a response, but they barely even glanced his way before going back to their important tasks of leaning against the truck and staring at the brick wall and end of the alleyway, respectively.

"Did you hear about the 76ers game the other night?"

One of the thugs—evil Harley, as Shawn liked to call him—shifted his gaze from the wall to the dumpster.

Shawn gave up. He decided to take on his own task of staring at the ground. Just when he thought this night couldn't get any more awkward, he heard an engine rumbling from the end of the alleyway. The shipment was here.

Still without a word spoken, the two thugs and Shawn made their way over to the grey van. Evil Harley paid the driver some money before joining Shawn and the other thug in unloading the boxes and carrying them over to their truck.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

John and Eli sat on the couch in John's apartment, neither really paying attention to the movie playing.

"Man, how pathetic are we?" Eli broke the silence. "We're sitting at home on Friday night dateless."

"No, I'm sitting at home. You're sitting on my couch."

"Funny. You know what I mean."

The two fell into companionable silence for a while again. John's mind wandered back to Shawn again. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about the kid. The way he had hesitated going to his dad's today worried him. It just didn't make sense.

"What's wrong?" Eli asked.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you've been staring off into space all night."

"And you haven't been?" John looked over at his friend, who just kept staring back. John sighed. "I'm just worried, is all. Something's seemed off about Shawn lately, but he won't open up about it. I mean, it's probably nothing, but I can't stop worrying about it."

"It's called being a parent."

John just glared at Eli for that remark.

"Look," Eli said, "if it's really gonna bother you that much, why don't you talk to Alan Matthews. That man should win father of the year in my book. Maybe he'll know what to tell you."

"Maybe."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn shifted, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard cement floor of the warehouse with only his duffle bag for a pillow. He gave up after several moments and settled for lying on his back. It's not like he'd be getting much sleep that night anyways. How the hell had he managed to get himself into this mess again? Oh, yeah. He wanted to live. He guessed this was an okay alternative. Maybe.

At least so far, he hadn't had to do anything too bad. He just had to package the drugs, and unload and reload the boxes twice. They called it a night once they got to the warehouse. The others had all already been there. They were just waiting for the three on pick-up duty. With all the gang members, it hadn't taken long to move all the boxes from the truck into the warehouse. Shawn even thanked the small blessings for the fact that the boxes even formed a sort of wall that he could sleep behind. It wasn't much, but it gave him a small sense of privacy and security—a very small, almost non-existent sense, but it was better than nothing.

Shawn shifted again. The floor was too hard on his back.

He hoped they would just keep having him deal with the sideline parts of the business. That, at least, he could cope with relatively well if he didn't think about it too much, at least. He could just pretend he was measuring out harmless ingredients someone could bake with, rather than focus on the truth that he was helping a drug ring sell drugs.

He wondered how long he could keep this up, though. People were bound to get suspicious sooner or later. He didn't want to go to jail. Even more than that, though, he didn't want anyone to get hurt.

Shawn shifted again.

Why did this have to happen now? Everything in his life seemed to be coming together finally. He had great friends in his life that he hadn't felt the need to push away in a long time. His dad was finally back in town, seemingly to stay. He may not always be pleasant to be around, but he was still there. His home life was stable. John had adopted him a while ago and didn't seem to regret that decision—yet, anyways. John had been great. Ever since his dad had first taken off, John had helped him out without expecting anything in return, it seemed. And now this happened. What would he think if he found out? John had told him he was proud of him. How could he be proud of a criminal? It wouldn't matter if he was proud of him or not if he were dead, though. Shawn couldn't let that happen. Disappointment, he could deal with. He'd dealt with that all his life, but . . . . He refused to lose the first father figure that actually wanted him around all the time. He wouldn't. He'd just have to find some way to make sure no one ever found out. Not because he didn't want to deal with the disappointment, but because he wanted to make sure he still had people around he didn't want to disappoint.

Shawn shifted.

This was going to be a long night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The first thing Shawn felt when he woke up the next morning was pain in his side. He instinctively curled in on himself.

"Hey, kid. Wake up."

Shawn opened his eyes and saw the tattooed muscle man in front of him. It looked like he had most of his weight on the one foot, almost as if he was preparing to kick with the other. That certainly explained the pain. Shawn bit back a groan and slowly sat up. He blinked several times, only dimly realizing that he must have fallen asleep at some point.

"Unpack these boxes and keep doing your thing with the drugs. Don't even think about running." The thug pounded his fist in his hand.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Shawn said.

The thug snorted. "Get moving."

Shawn made his way over to the boxes as the muscle man walked away. "Hey," he said. "How do you want me to open these?"

The thug only stopped long enough to toss him a pocket knife.

With that in hand, Shawn began to take down his makeshift sanctuary wall.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Whoa, nice house Feeny," Eric said. He and Jason looked around the house in awe. It looked like there were several antiques. There were throw blankets draped over the couch and chairs.

"That's Mr. Feeny to you."

The trio made their way to the baby grand piano in the back of the room. Feeny sat on the bench, while the two boys stood on either side of him.

"Have you heard this song before?" Feeny asked them.

"We saw the movie, so probably," Jason said.

"Okay then. Let's get started." Feeny flexed his fingers over the keys. "Just do what you can. We'll work out the details as we go along." He started to play the section of "America" the boys needed to learn for the audition and sang along with it. The boys didn't even try to join in.

"Since the reason you are here is because you want to learn this, why don't you try it?" Feeny said.

"You want us to do what now?" Eric asked.

"I want you to repeat back what I just sang. The words are right here."

"Oh, okay," Jason said.

The two boys opened their mouths to start singing. Jason was off-pitch the entire time, and Eric somehow managed to turn the song into a Gregorian chant.

"Oh, boy," Feeny said.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn cut through the tape on the next box. The piles of empty boxes and boxes filled with the measured out drugs were much higher than the boxes he needed to open, now. He had no idea how long he had been doing this. Time had lost all meaning for him almost immediately upon waking. It was easier that way.

"So, what do you think of the kid?"

Shawn looked up to see a small gathering of gang members across the room. The leader was leaning against the wall, stroking what was now a short beard on his face. The others sat and stood in various positions around him. He quickly looked back at what he was doing but made an effort to be as quiet as he could so he could hear what they were saying.

"I don't know. The kid has been showing, and he hasn't squealed, but I don't know," the leader said. "There's just something about him."

Shawn took the lid off of the canister he just set on the ground.

"We need to test him. Make sure he's really one of us."

"If he's not?" Eddie asked.

Shawn stopped what he was doing and didn't even dare to breathe.

"Then the deal's off."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Alan got up off the couch to answer the door when he heard a knock. John stood there with his helmet under his arm. "Hi, John, come on in," he said. He stepped aside to let him pass. "What's up?"

"I need some advice," John said.

"I'll see what I can do." Alan gestured for him to have a seat on the couch. He joined him after he had been seated.

John leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on his legs, with his fingers clasped. "I think something's going on with Shawn, but he's not opening up about it. I mean, I don't even know for sure that something is going on. It's just a gut feeling. Too many little things just seem off."

"Well," Alan said. "It is a parent's job to worry, so it could be nothing, but in my experience, it rarely is."

"Has there ever been a time you had no clue what was going on with your kids?"

"All the time."

Just then, Eric came walking through the room. "Life can be bright in America," he sang. "If you can fight in America. Life is alright in America.* Someone please kill me now in America." He walked up the stairs as he was finishing.

John stared at the steps for a moment, with his mouth open and eyebrows scrunched. "I'm assuming now is one of those times?"

"Unfortunately, no, it's not." Alan rubbed his temple as he said this. His voice took on that breathy exasperated tone Eric often brought on. "He promised some girl he would audition for the musical this year without realizing what he was promising."

John chuckled. "Wow."

"The point is," Alan said in a more serious tone, "all you can do is be there for Shawn. Just talk to him about anything. If something is going on, he may open up in time. All you can do is wait. You can't exactly force him to say anything, so just be there."

John thanked the man, and they just sat there in companionable silence for a moment.

"Wait a minute," Alan said. "I thought you were taking Shawn out of town this weekend."

"Who told you that?" John asked.

"Cory. He said Shawn—oh, well," he waved his hand. "It was probably just a misunderstanding."

"Probably." There was that gut instinct again.

* * *

*Lyrics from "America" by Stephen Sondheim, featured in the movie version of _West Side Story_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Boy Meets World_ or "America" from _West Side Story_.

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews MalikaiDragonSlayer and Satan's Little Demon!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The sound of singing drifted from Cory and Eric's room. Cory stopped just outside his door, not sure what to make of it. Cautiously, he opened the door. Eric was singing.

"Life can be bright in America, if you can fight in America. Life is alright in America, if you're all white in America,"* Eric sang. He took in a deep breath to continue.

"What are you doing?" Cory asked from the doorway.

Eric threw the music down onto his bed behind him. "Nothing. What are you doing?"

"Come on, Eric. I just heard you singing. Since when do you sing? Besides, isn't that from a musical or something?"

"So? Maybe it is." Eric waited for Cory to back down, but he just stood there with his arms crossed. "Oh, alright. I kind of sort of agreed to try out for _West Side Story_."

Cory burst out laughing.

"You're so dead." Eric jumped up off his bed and ran towards Cory.

Cory screamed and promptly ran out of the room.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn sat against the wall with his arms wrapped around his bent legs. He got to go home today. At the moment, he was almost too tired to care. He did get some sleep each night, but the cold, hard floor made that difficult. The situation itself didn't exactly help matters either.

What was he going to do? They said something about testing him. What kind of test? He didn't exactly have the best track record with tests. He shuttered just thinking about what would happen if he failed this one.

"Shawn." Shawn looked up to see Eddie standing right in front of him. "Sid wants to talk to you."

"Sid?" Shawn asked.

"The leader."

Shawn stood and followed Eddie over to the rest of the gang. He looked around at them. Some were smirking as if he were the punch line to a joke. Others were looking at him as if they would like nothing better than to start fighting him right then and there.

"Kid," Sid said. "I think we can all agree it's time we stop playing around here."

Shawn swallowed hard. "What do you mean?" He hoped his voice wasn't as high-pitched as he thought it was.

"We all agree it's been good having someone to do the grunt work around here, but if you're really gonna hold up your end of the bargain, you've gotta do more than that."

Shawn looked around at the gang members. Their smirks seemed to get bigger. "What do I have to do?"

"We have a client that needs a little reminder that we aren't a loan service. We expect payment quickly, or there are consequences. You're going with Lukas and Patch to remind him."

For a moment, Shawn thought his lungs shut down. He forced the air in and out of his lungs until he was able to speak. "No," he said softly.

"No?" Sid asked. He and the others started laughing. "That wasn't a request."

Shawn gulped in a breath. He kept his voice as steady as he could manage. "I don't care. I'm not doing it."

"Did everyone hear that? He's backing out on his end of the deal. You know what that means, don't you?"

There was that laughter again. The tattooed muscle man—he thought that's who Sid referred to as Lukas—moved closer and closer. Shawn started backing up before he realized it was futile. The whole gang was closing in on him. The cage was growing smaller by the second. He flinched and closed his eyes on instinct. He tensed up in anticipation. He was so sure the blows would come any second.

No. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing his fear. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stood his ground, looking back at them defiantly. A strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind. It took all his will power to keep from jumping. He met Lukas's eyes. He refused to look at the fist raised and ready to fly his way.

"Wait," Eddie called out.

Everyone stopped moving and looked at Sid to see how he would handle this. Sid looked eerily, almost deadly, calm. "What do you want, Hunter?"

"Even I couldn't handle this kind of thing so soon after joining. Give him some time to get used to it. He'll toughen up."

Shawn could have hugged Eddie right then and there for buying him time if the situation would have allowed for it.

Sid stared hard at Eddie. He glared over at Shawn briefly before sending it back at Eddie again. "Fine. But he better toughen up quick."

The gang members all backed off. Shawn's eyes followed Lukas's fist as he lowered it.

"Get him out of here before I change my mind." Sid waved his hand dismissively as he turned his back on them.

Eddie walked over to Shawn and led him out of the warehouse, only making a small detour to give Shawn a chance to grab his bag. Neither boy said a word as they walked out to Eddie's beat-up red '86 Chevy. It wasn't until they were nearing the trailer park that they broke the silence.

"You're running out of time. I can't keep stalling for you forever." Eddie spared Shawn one quick glance before shifting his eyes back to the road.

"I know." Shawn looked out the window. It was a nice change getting to see nature pass him by after spending a weekend staring at the dilapidated walls of the warehouse. "What should I do?" His eyes never moved from the window.

"Toughen up fast."

They had reached the trailer park. Shawn could see his old trailer from there. He tore his eyes away from the window to look at Eddie. "Do I have any other choices?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

Eddie put the car into park before turning to look Shawn directly in the eyes. "Toughen up faster."

* * *

*Lyrics from "America" by Stephen Sondheim, featured in the movie version of _West Side Story_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Boy Meets World_.

**A/N: **Thank you Ghostwriter, Anna, and nikkimbt02 for your reviews! I'm glad you like it! And also, thanks Anna on picking up on that mistake! Constructive criticism/proofreading comments are always welcome. I went back through and fixed the spelling error where I could find it. Hopefully I caught it all. Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Shawn dragged his feet along the street, with his hands in his pocket and head down. He'd gotten into trouble before, but this time . . . .

He looked up as he reached Cory's house. He wasn't ready to go home and face John yet. His mind was still in overdrive from this weekend. John seemed like he knew something was going on. His constant reassurances that Shawn could tell him anything kept Shawn on edge. Every time John said that, he had to use all of his willpower to keep from breaking down and telling him everything. He didn't think he'd be able to keep this from him if he went home right then.

He was just about to knock on the front door when he heard a basketball bouncing off the ground. He lowered his fist and walked around back. Cory was shooting hoops.

"Hey, Cor," he said.

Cory caught the ball and held it under his arm. "Hey. Want to join me?"

What could it hurt? "Sure. If you don't mind losing."

"Don't you mean if you, my friend, don't mind losing?" Cory asked, indignantly.

Shawn almost smiled. "Just give me the ball. First to ten wins."

"You're on."

The two danced around each other, each trying to get the upper hand with the ball. The game drew on and on. Neither could gain an advantage for long before the other caught back up again.

They were tied 9 to 9. Shawn stole the ball away from Cory and dribbled his way over to the net. Cory ran over to him. Shawn turned so that his back shielded the ball from him. He raised the ball into the air. Cory ran around to block the shot. Shawn released the ball. It hit the rim and bounced off. He caught the rebound and threw it again. Score.

"I guess that means I win," Shawn said. He sat down on the ground. The adrenaline from the game had worn off, and he was exhausted. He looked over at Cory as he sat beside him.

"Good game," Cory said.

"Good game."

"Hey. How was your trip this weekend?"

Shawn looked up at the sky. There were only a few clouds in sight. The sky was a pretty shade of blue. It wasn't often he took the time to really appreciate how beautiful something as ever present as the sky was. He latched onto the state of peace and calm that thought brought on. "It was great. John and I rode all the roller coasters, pigged out on cotton candy, and rode all the roller coasters again."

"You okay?" Cory asked.

Shawn looked at him in confusion. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"I don't know. It's just . . . you didn't exactly seem all that excited there. Come on. I'm your best friend. Talk to me." Cory looked so serious and concerned right then, Shawn had to look away.

"There's nothing to tell—other than what I told you, that is. The trip was great. John and I had a lot of fun. Nothing's wrong."

"Really? So why did it take you so long to answer before?"

_Great, Hunter. What now? _Shawn used his hands as leverage to help him stand up. Cory watched him for a moment before standing as well. "It's just . . ." _I spent my weekend in a warehouse with a gang that would like nothing better than to see me screw up so they can ki—_ "I feel like I'm betraying dad, somehow." He didn't know where that was coming from, but he was going with it.

"What? Why?"

"Well, I had this great time with John, and I'm actually starting to consider him my dad too."

"The man did adopt you. Besides, didn't your dad ask him to do that? He gave his permission for it. I think he'd understand. Besides, it's only natural. John is acting like more of a father to you than your dad is."

Shawn couldn't bear to look at Cory right then. He'd bought the lie without question. "Let's just drop it, okay?"

The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity to Shawn. He put his hands in his pocket as he idly took a few steps.

"Want to go another round?" Cory asked, holding out the basketball. Shawn barely nodded in response. Cory threw the ball to him. "You can start."

Shawn stood there staring at the ball.

"You don't have anything to be guilty about," Cory said.

Shawn threw the ball into the hoop, trying to block out the knowledge that he did in fact feel guilty, but not for the reason Cory thought. He lied to his best friend. Again.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

John looked up from the papers he was grading when he heard the door open. Shawn came through the door with his duffel slung over his shoulder.

"Hi, Shawn," he said. "How was your trip?"

"It was great," Shawn said as he dropped the bag on the ground and sat next to John on the couch. "We didn't really leave the trailer much." He shrugged. "We just wanted to spend some quality father-son time together." He thought back to a trip they had taken a few years ago. "We did stop at this one really cool park, though. We got to go out in a boat on the river and everything."

"That's great," John said. Suddenly, he could sense a shift in Shawn's mood. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. Shawn's smile had faded. The ghost of a smile that remained seemed forced.

"Yeah." Shawn shifted a bit and averted his gaze. "I missed you." His voice had been so soft there that John almost didn't hear it.

"I missed you, too, kiddo." Shawn's head shot up fast at that. So he hadn't meant for him to hear that part. John studied him for a moment. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" John held his breath as Shawn opened his mouth to speak. He looked so vulnerable all of a sudden. _Come on. Let me help you_. And just like that the moment was gone. Shawn closed his mouth and looked away.

"I know," he said.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Boy Meets World_ or _West Side Story_.

**A/N:** Thank you Ashley Joliet Blues, nikkimbt02, Nike 316, and TwinklyMarshmellowSnowSix for your reviews! I'm sorry for the long wait.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Eric and Jason stood in front of the Theatre bulletin board, with their pens raised. Eric signed his name by the time 5:20 on a sheet of paper with the heading Acting/Singing Auditions and a subheading of Monday, November 13 and again by a number 1 on a sheet of paper with the heading Dance Auditions and a subheading of Wednesday, November 15. Jason signed his name right below Eric's, by the time 5:25 and the number 2, respectively.

The two turned away from the board and dragged their feet along the ground as they moved over to the bench in the middle of the hallway. To look at them, one would think they had just run a marathon. They plopped down on the bench as soon as they got close enough.

"Wow, what happened to you two?" Eli asked as he approached them. He saw their funeral march over to the bench.

"You say it," Eric said to Jason. "I can't bear to say it."

Jason patted him on the back in sympathy. "This lug head over here promised a girl we would do anything to help her out." He paused and drew in a breath. "We just signed up for musical auditions."

"Ouch," Eli said. "Good luck with that." He walked away, and the other two could swear they heard laughter coming from his direction.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Could you keep an eye on Shawn in your classes?" John asked his two colleagues, Eli and George. They were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. He kept his voice down, because Shawn had his lunch this same period. The last thing he wanted was to have Shawn get upset from hearing him talking about him. Shawn never did take to that very well.

"Why? Is something wrong?" George asked.

"He's adjusting to the whole parental thing. You know, the constant worry that comes along with having a kid," Eli chimed in.

"Ah." George gave John a reassuring smile. "I'm sure you'll get used to it—or get used to not getting used to it, at any rate."

John rolled his eyes at the two. "I'm serious. I think something's going on with Shawn."

"There's always something going on with him." George took one look at John's pathetic attempt at a glare—the glare having been overshadowed by worry lines—and sighed. "Alright. I'll let you know if I notice anything."

"Thank you."

"Personally, I don't see anything wrong with him," Eli said. "He slept through my class. Now, if he was actually paying attention, _then_ I'd be worried."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Eric and Jason paced in the waiting area outside the auditorium. Their audition time slots were quickly approaching. Both boys stopped pacing when a brunette came through the doors.

"Eric Matthews?" she called. Eric stepped towards her. "You're next."

Jason patted Eric on the back as he walked away from him and through the doors. Eric looked around the empty auditorium as he walked up to the stage. There were three teachers sitting in the first row of seats. Another lady was sitting behind a piano on the stage. He took a deep breath as he walked up the steps leading to the stage.

"You're Eric Matthews, correct?" one of the teachers said. Eric didn't recognize him. He was probably the music teacher or something.

"Yeah."

"You'll start with the singing part of your audition first and then we'll go from there. Let us know when you're ready."

Eric looked down at his music, frantically going over everything he had learned. He looked up. "I'm ready."

The accompanist started playing the intro. Eric counted out the rests, like Mr. Feeny had taught him to do. "Life can be bright in America, if you can fight in America. Life is alright in America, if you're all white in America."* Eric continued on for the rest of the audition piece. He could see the directors taking notes as he finished.

"Okay," a female director said. "Whenever you're ready, you can start the monologue."

* * *

*Lyrics from "America" by Stephen Sondheim, featured in the movie version of _West Side Story_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World _or _West Side Story_.

**A/N: **Thank you Mistress Nix, Amanda, and Whatnoww for your reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

When Shawn arrived at the trailer park, he noticed something different. Not only were all of the gang members there already and standing in a circle, the teen he had seen on that fateful day he met the gang was cowering in the middle of it.

"Shawn," Sid said. "There you are." He motioned Shawn to join the crowd.

"What's going on?" Shawn asked.

"My little friend here hasn't paid us." Sid grabbed the teen's shirt and yanked him towards him for emphasis. "We've given him warnings, but he didn't listen. So now he'll pay the price."

"What price?" Shawn asked. The gang members all started laughing. He had to stop himself from shivering at the sound of it. Several gang members around him were pounding their fists in their hands. The teen in the center was shaking and looked like he was on the verge of crying.

"Please." The teen's voice was hoarse. "Please, let me at least talk to my family first."

"Why? " Sid asked. "So they can call the cops?"

The teen was crying now. "So I can say . . . ." The word _goodbye_ hung in the air unspoken, cut off by the boy's sobs.

Shawn could have sworn his heart had stopped just then. "No," he whispered.

Sid turned to him. "What was that, kid?"

"I told you I wouldn't help you with . . ." Shawn couldn't even bring himself to say it. ". . . with stuff like this. You can't do this. It's . . . ."

"Wrong? Illegal?" Sid laughed. "We're a drug ring, kid, and we're not playing around."

It seemed like Shawn couldn't get enough air into his lungs all of a sudden. He kept gasping for air and forcing his lungs to cooperate. It felt like they were revolting on him. He felt a rough hand on his shoulder after he started swaying.

"Relax, kid," Sid said. Somehow, Shawn didn't find it very comforting. "We're not making you participate. You just have to watch."

"That's sick."

"We've gotta toughen you up somehow."

Shawn felt the hand leave his shoulder. He could leave right then. Screw the consequences. He wasn't about to stand by and just watch. He couldn't. A strong pair of arms grabbed him from behind. He struggled against them as hard as he could. They wouldn't budge.

Then the games began.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn ran as far as he could. He just had to get away from the gang. They had let him go after leaving to dump the body in the forest. Just thinking about it made the bile rise in his throat. He stumbled over past the nearest bush, before sinking to his hands and knees. He hoped that bush gave him some privacy at least. He waited for his stomach to finally settle before sitting back.

He couldn't go back home. Not yet. There was no way he'd be able to keep any of this from John if he did. Besides, he reeked of vomit. Though his dad may worry too, he never seemed to be as observant or overbearing where his health was concerned as John. Maybe he could stop in for a visit and clean up before going back to the apartment. It would give him a chance at clearing his head first.

Mind made up, he slowly got to his feet and made his way towards his dad's trailer. "Dad?" he called as he closed the door behind him.

"Hey, Shawn," Chet said. He stood up turned around on the couch so he could see his son better. He made a disgusted face. "P-U. What's that smell?"

"Oh. I uh, I got sick on my way over. Probably ate something that didn't agree with me or something. I'm just gonna go clean up." Shawn went into the bathroom to do just that. The cold water felt wonderful on his face. He stayed in there a moment longer to try and get his breathing better under control.

Chet was standing awkwardly by the kitchen table when Shawn came out—well, more like leaning heavily up against it. Shawn took a seat by him after grabbing a can of orange soda out of the fridge.

"How's school goin' for ya?" Chet asked.

"It's going okay," Shawn said. He took a sip of the soda, grateful to have a different, pleasant taste in his mouth. "Dad's making sure I've been doing my homework and everything, so my grades have actually been improving some."

"How can I make sure you're doing your work? You don't live here." All Shawn did was stare at him in confusion. "You said 'Dad's' making sure you're doing it."

"Oh," Shawn said, embarrassed. "I meant John. Sorry about that."

"Did Teach raise ya from birth, boy?" Chet's voice was louder than it should have been. The words seemed more drawn out too.

Shawn stood up. "He adopted me—at your request, or have you forgotten."

"You've only got one father and you damn well better remember that."

Shawn saw an empty bottle off to the side. How could he have missed it? The unmistakable smell of alcohol hung in the air. "I'll see you later." He moved passed his dad.

Chet reached out and gripped his shoulder hard, pulling him back in the process. "You leave when I say you can leave. We need to finish this discush, discsh . . . uh, talk."

Shawn knocked his hand off his shoulder. "We can talk when you're sober." The next thing Shawn knew, he was on the ground and his left cheek felt like it was on fire. He quickly scrambled back and kept his eyes on Chet the entire time. The man didn't seem to notice Shawn at the moment. He was too busy shaking out his fist. It must have hurt him too. Shawn took advantage of his dad's preoccupation and got up. He inched his way to the door, making sure not to draw any attention to himself. Once he left, he didn't look back—not even when he heard glass shattering against the door behind him.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn was relieved when he arrived back at the apartment—especially when he found John was out. He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. The thoughts just kept swirling around in his head in one chaotic mix. He wished it would all just stop—that he could have some peace, even just for a little while.

He looked up and grabbed the remote to turn the TV on. Maybe he could drown out his thoughts. He flipped through the channels until he found _Home Improvement_. It was a nice, good, happy-go-lucky comedy. That was exactly what he needed right then. Well, it would have been if he was able to stop thinking long enough to watch it.

He turned the TV off and threw the remote across the couch. He watched it slide until the arm on the opposite end stopped it. His backpack lay on the floor nearby.

He shook his head and smiled. Who would have ever thought he'd consider homework to be exactly what he needed? Pigs must have learned to fly somewhere.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"How'd your auditions go?" Amy asked as Eric and Jason walked through the door.

"They went." Eric plopped down on the couch; Jason joined him.

"The worst is yet to come," Jason said.

"What's that?" she asked.

"The dance auditions."

Amy shook her head and bit back a chuckle. "Have fun with that." She left the room to let the two do whatever they needed to do.

Eric forced himself to get up. He slowly walked over to the CD player and put the _West Side Story_ soundtrack in. The sound of "America" started flooding the room. "Let's get this over with."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

John juggled the grocery bag as he tried to unlock the door to his apartment. The first thing he saw when he walked in was Shawn sitting on the couch hunched over a book and notebook and writing. He nudged the door closed with his foot. _Wait a minute_, he thought. His head snapped back around towards Shawn. He was doing homework. Willingly. Without any prompting. "I never thought I'd see the day," he muttered. "Hell must have frozen over."

"Hi, John," Shawn said without looking up.

John said hi before he made his way to the little kitchen area, shaking his head as he passed Shawn. No one would believe him if he told them about this. He put the bag down on the counter before putting the groceries away as quietly as he could manage. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb Shawn at the moment. He glanced back over at him, still in disbelief, before focusing back on putting everything away. Wait . . . . Did he just see . . . ? He did a quick double take, this time really looking at Shawn—or more specifically at the bruise on his cheek.

"Shawn, what happened?" John put down the box of Cheerios he had in his hand and walked over to sit next to the kid.

Shawn slowly lifted his eyes from his homework to meet John's, still in a daze. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about you start by explaining how you got that nice little black and blue mark?"

"What—" Shawn brought his hand up to his cheek and winced as he felt how sore it really was. Funny, he hadn't noticed it till just then. "Oh, right. That." He mentally shook himself. He couldn't tell the truth. That was a given. In order for John to believe his lie, however, he had to give one of his famously horrible lies first. Can't disappoint now. He got this big smile on his face. He hoped it didn't look as fake as it felt. "It's a funny story. You see, I was walking down the hallway at John Adam's High and this group of jocks just came running out of nowhere. They decided to have baseball practice indoors. I just so happened to pass in front of the pitcher as he threw a fast ball. Hit me right in the cheek. Someone should really enforce those rules about playing ball in the halls."

"Uh huh . . . Want to tell me the truth now?"

"That is the truth."

"Right. And I'm sure the pitcher was just so completely and totally oblivious to the fact that a kid was right in front of him."

"He was blind."

John raised an eyebrow and faced him fully. "A blind pitcher . . . ."

"It could happen."

"Truth. Now."

Shawn sighed and looked away from John. All signs of joking around left his face. "I ran into a few thugs at the trailer park when I went to visit my dad today. They were bored. I was passing by. They didn't like the looks of me, so they hit me. End of story."

It was John's turn to sigh. "Now was that so hard?"

Shawn shrugged.

"You could have told me that. Why didn't you?"

_Because you would have never bought it if I said that first._ "I was afraid you'd keep me from going back there again."

"Shawn, Chet is your father. I won't lie that I'm not always comfortable with the idea of you walking there alone, since it isn't the safest place in the world, but I won't stop you from visiting him."

Shawn looked away. He couldn't meet his gaze right then, knowing full well his answer would have been completely different had he known the truth.

"I could never replace him and I won't try to."

Shawn gave a slight jerk of his head, which John took as a nod.

"I want you to promise me, though, that you will be completely honest with me from here on out. I care about you, kiddo, and I don't like seeing you hurt—physically or emotionally."

Shawn swallowed hard. "Okay." He forced himself to meet John's gaze for the briefest of moments—for as long as he dared, knowing if he looked at him too long, his resolve to keep everything secret would crumble.

"Okay." John gently patted Shawn's knee before standing up. "I'll get you some ice for your cheek. It looks a little swollen."

"Thanks."

John looked back at Shawn before he opened the freezer and shook his head in disbelief. The kid was back to doing his homework.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

When John first woke up, he wasn't quite sure what had woken him. It was still pitch black and a quick glance at the clock was enough to tell him it wasn't even close to morning. He rolled over to try and fall back to sleep. That was when he heard it. It sounded like Shawn was muttering something. In only a matter of seconds, the soft muttering turned into all-out screaming. John jumped out of bed and sprinted out of his room and over to Shawn's.

The kid was tossing and turning. His eyes were still closed, but he looked absolutely terrified and he was screaming himself hoarse. John's heart hammered in his chest. He felt about as panicked as Shawn looked. "Shawn. Shawn, wake up," he said repeatedly, now sitting on the edge of his bed and trying to shake him awake. He wasn't sure how long he sat there trying to wake him before the kid finally opened his eyes.

The fear slowly was replaced by a look of relief, and John suddenly found Shawn clinging to him like some sort of lifeline. He put his arms around him, returning the hug, and was disconcerted to notice how much Shawn was shaking. "It was just a dream. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you." He rubbed soothing circles on the kid's back, trying to calm him down as much as he was trying to calm himself. John didn't let go until Shawn pulled back on his own. He kept his arm around the kid's shoulders and took in the slight blush that was making an appearance. Shawn was clearly embarrassed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Shawn just gave a slight shake of his head. "I'm tired."

He really did look exhausted. "Alright, kiddo. Try to get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay, dad."

John could almost swear his heart had skipped a beat just them. Did he really hear what he thought he heard? He stayed seated on the edge of the bed as Shawn laid back down. Something was wrong. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out. He just wished the kid would open up to him about it. He couldn't help him if he didn't know what was wrong.

Once Shawn's breathing evened out and became deeper—and he seemed to remain peaceful—John stood and made his way over to the door. He hesitated at the threshold and looked back for a moment, just watching his son sleep. 'His son,' he mused, not sure when he had started thinking of him that way, but knowing deep down it had been long before the kid called him 'dad.' He quietly closed the door behind him, careful to not disturb the sleeping child.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the long wait. Thank you everyone who kept reading and reviewing. That's what kept reminding me I still had to complete this story. Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Shawn pulled the covers over his head in a futile attempt to block out the sunlight. Memories from last night came rushing back to him. Yesterday evening had been bad enough, then he hadn't even been able to escape from it when he slept. If anything, his nightmare had been even worse. It had started out exactly the same way his evening had, with the gang and the boy. The boy, however, had then morphed into John. The gang kept saying this was what he got for letting the man get suspicious.

Shawn curled into a ball. What was he supposed to do now? He knew John would want to talk about it. There wasn't really any escaping that. Not after last night. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and got up to get ready. A mental breakdown wouldn't solve anything. He'd just have to figure it out as he went along—not that that's any different from what he had been doing . . . .

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn took a deep breath before walking towards the kitchen area, where John was setting out breakfast. "G'morning." John returned the greeting. Shawn grabbed a piece of toast and made a show of taking a bite before heading towards his backpack. "I hate to eat and run, but I'm running late."

"I've already called Feeny. He's covering my homeroom until we get there. We need to talk."

Shawn knew he should have some kind of comeback to that, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it. He dropped his backpack and dragged his feet back over to the table.

John waited until Shawn sat down. "What's wrong?"

Shawn looked down. "Nothing. Why?"

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

Shawn shifted. "So I had a nightmare. Big deal. Everyone has them."

"That wasn't a normal nightmare."

Shawn looked up. "What makes you think that?"

"You were screaming."

He was? Shawn frowned. Now that he thought about it, his throat did feel a little sore. "I made the mistake of watching Stephen King's _It_ the other day. Normal clowns are creepy enough, but killer clowns are terrifying."

John just stared. He knew the kid was lying. Irrational fears could get pretty bad even for teenagers, but not like this. "I didn't know you were afraid of clowns."

"Well, I am. I thought I was over it, but I guess not." Shawn was starting to get really uncomfortable with how John seemed to be studying him. "I just think they're creepy. Cory's even worse than me with them. His parents hired one for his fifth birthday party. He started crying and ran when it said hi."

"So you had a nightmare about clowns," John said slowly.

Shawn nodded.

John just kept staring. This was going nowhere. "Just finish getting ready and we can go."

If Shawn had stood up any faster, his chair would have tipped over.

John rubbed his eyes.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn plopped down in his desk chair and slid down, hoping to escape all notice, but Cory turned around as soon as he had spotted Mr. Turner.

"Hey, Shawn, sleep in again?" Cory asked, turning around. He paused when he saw the bruise. "Shawn. What happened?"

Shawn bit back a groan when Cory's reaction caught Topanga's attention too. The two of them looked pretty worried. If the situation were reversed, though, he guessed he'd be the same. Before he knew it, Topanga was standing right beside him and Cory was completely turned around in his seat and staring directly at him. And both of them were waiting for an answer. He sighed. "Look, it's not that big of a deal. I ran into a couple of thugs at the trailer park yesterday. You know how they are."

The two continued to just stare at him. Cory was the first to break the silence. "You never tell the truth right off the bat. What gives?"

"I already had this conversation with John last night. I'm tired right now. I don't feel like going through the whole routine again when I knew you'd just get it out of me anyways."

Cory just kept staring at him like he was trying to decide whether to believe him or not. Shawn fought the urge to look away and met his gaze full on. After what seemed like an eternity, Cory finally gave a small nod. "You're sure you're all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Shawn said. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason."

"Shawn—"

"Topanga, he says he's fine. He says that's what happened. I believe him. Just let it go."

Shawn let out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He finally dropped his gaze and missed the look his friends gave one another. But Cory trusted him. He always had.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Cory, wait a minute," Topanga said. Their TV Broadcasting class had just ended. All the other students were filing out.

"Sure thing," Cory said before calling to Shawn, "We'll catch up with you later."

Shawn barely missed a beat walking.

Once the rest of the students left, Cory turned fully back to his girlfriend. "What's up?"

Topanga's eyes strayed to the front of the room where Mr. Williams sat at his desk, presumably planning another class period. She would have been more comfortable having this conversation in private, but he seemed to be busy. "I'm worried about Shawn."

Cory sighed. "I already told you. He says he's fine. He says that's what happened. Therefore, he is fine and that's all that happened."

"Yeah, but that's the thing. You said yourself, since when does Shawn tell the truth when first asked? He always starts with some far-fetched lie."

Cory shoved his hands in his pocket. "He said he was tired and didn't feel like going through the usual routine."

"You've known Shawn for years now. Have you ever seen him act like he did then?"

Cory thought back through the years. Shawn wasn't serious very often. "Yeah, when his mom took off with their house."

"But in that time, was he ever fully truthful about anything?"

"Yeah."

"About something serious?"

Cory sighed again. "Once. When he was sure no one wanted him and he got angry. He started yelling about how he didn't need anybody."

"So he yelled," Topanga prodded. It was hard putting words to what was bothering her about Shawn, but they finally seemed to be getting somewhere. She had to keep pushing.

Cory looked at her confused. "Yes," he said slowly.

"He showed emotion—anger."

Cory nodded. "I just said that. Where are you going with this?"

"If you had to categorize Shawn's emotional state this morning when we had that conversation, what would you say he primarily displayed?" Topanga held her breath, willing her boyfriend to realize what she already had.

Cory seriously thought about it for a moment. He had seen a whole range of emotions from his friend over the years. Anger, joy, sorrow, resentment, betrayal . . . . "Nothing. I couldn't say. There wasn't anything."

"Now do you know why I'm worried?"

"Yeah," he said while he looked back up at her, "because I am too."

"We have to talk to him."

"I'll talk to him at lunch about going to Chubbie's after school today. We'll talk to him then."

The bell rang again. They hurriedly grabbed their things to head to their next class.

"Hold it," Mr. Williams called. "I'll write you passes."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_ or _West Side Story_.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Eric and Jason stood in the hallway, banging their heads against their lockers in time with the music. "Life can be bright in America if you can fight in America,"* the two sang.

"You know," Jason started, leaning back against his locker now, "I don't think it would be even half as bad if I could just get this freaking song out of my head."

"I know what you mean," Eric said. "It's like I just can't get away from it. I've been trying but it just won't leave me alone. You know, I think I even had a dream about it in Bio."

"You did. You sang it right in the middle of Sorrel's lecture. It was embarrassing."

"Aw, man." Eric opened his locker, shoved his books in, then slammed the door shut again. Could his life get any worse? Then suddenly, he smiled. "Alright! I think I finally forgot it."

Two girls walked by just then. "You should have seen his face. He so totally got in a fight or something."

Eric and Jason banged their heads off their lockers again.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn shifted in his seat. He purposefully kept his head down and paid far more attention to the burger and fries he was eating than was necessary. The concerned looks Cory and Topanga kept sending his way made him uneasy. They didn't buy his story earlier. He had a pretty good idea that's why they wanted to go to Chubbie's after school. They wanted to talk—just like John did. He couldn't tell them what was really going on. It was bad enough worrying about John getting involved. He couldn't handle it if anyone else was in danger as well. It had to stay with just him. Whatever it took, he had to keep them from finding out about the gang.

It was about when Shawn was slurping up air from his straw that he realized he couldn't stall any longer. They must be pretty worried if they were giving him this much time before starting in on him. He finally looked up and almost winced to find both of them staring at him, with their own food sitting only half eaten, if that even.

"Shawn, what's going on?" Topanga asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"No, Shawn. You are not fine." Cory's voice had that edge to it that Shawn hated. It's the tone he used every time Shawn screwed up. "You've been acting like you're in a daze for the past week and now you show up with a bruise on your cheek and acting like—well like—I don't even know what to say. It's like you just gave up or something."

"I'm tired. I didn't sleep real good last night."

"Shawn," Topanga started. "We may have only really become good friends this past year, but even I can tell something's wrong. You have to talk about it."

"And we won't leave until you do," Cory said.

Shawn started the staring game. Cory wasn't backing down. If anything, he looked more determined by the second. Topanga was just as stubborn. What the hell could he tell them that would get them to back off? They wouldn't believe anything he said at this point unless it was something serious. He couldn't tell them about the gang. There's no way. But it wasn't the gang who punched him. That's what started this intervention, after all.

No, he couldn't . . . . Could he?

Shawn swallowed the lump in his throat. That was a secret he had kept for years. He never wanted anyone to find out. He didn't want anyone to look at him any differently. But if it could keep them safe . . . . It's not like anything would have to change. He didn't live with his dad anymore. John had adopted him and his dad never showed any real interest in accepting responsibility for him again. If it could keep them from finding out about the gang and keep them safe . . . .

He hoped his dad could forgive him for this.

Shawn looked away and played with his napkin. "My dad started drinking again." _Not that he ever really stopped._ "I noticed it when I went to visit him last week. He, um, well—" This was even harder than he thought it would be. "He's not himself when he's drunk." He looked up. Topanga's eyes widened. He could almost see the wheels turn as she put it together. Cory, on the other hand, looked as clueless as ever. Damn it. He was going to make him say it. "He hit me, alright? It wasn't a couple of thugs. It was—it was my dad." Somehow admitting it out loud made it seem even that much worse. His friends didn't make him feel any better about it. Topanga looked like she was about to cry. Cory looked like he was caught somewhere between shock and horror. "You can't tell anyone about this. Please. I—"

"Shawn, this is serious." Topanga said. "You need to tell someone."

"I did. I just told you."

"That's not enough. You need to tell Mr. Turner. We need to call the cops," she continued.

Shawn wished his lungs would stop fighting against him so much lately. "No. I can't. I just—" He couldn't go to the cops. What if the gang found out? What if they thought he ratted them out? If he told John, that would probably just lead to the cops too. The gang would think John knew. He couldn't lose John. He couldn't. He— "I don't even live with him anymore. John adopted me. It doesn't matter anymore. So, please . . . just drop it, alright?"

Cory and Topanga looked at one another, then back at Shawn.

"Alright," Cory said, finally. "If it means that much to you, I won't say anything. Neither will Topanga."

"Cory . . . ."

"No, Topanga. Shawn's right. He doesn't live there anymore. But Shawn, you've got to promise me you won't go there alone. Ever. Got it?"

That was one promise he knew he couldn't keep. "Cory. Come on. It's not that bad."

"Promise me. Anytime you want to go visit, let me know. I'll come with you. Or you could ask Mr. Turner or—heck, even Eric. I don't care. But you can't go alone."

Shawn looked back and forth between the two. "Alright, fine. Whatever. I promise." He looked away again. That was lie number . . . he lost count.

"Good," Cory said.

The three sat in silence for a while. No one really knew what to say. Shawn barely even noticed when Topanga left. She said she needed to get home or something.

"Hey," Cory said with forced cheerfulness. "You want to come over my house and shoot some hoops?"

"I can't. I've got other plans."

"To go visit your dad?" Any pretense of cheer was gone.

"No, it's something else."

"Okay, you can come over after."

Wow, Cory was stubborn. Shawn finally looked at him again. "Sure. I'll see you then." He grabbed his backpack and left.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"I'm sorry, man," Eli said. "I was really hoping for your sake and Hunter's that you were just paranoid, but even Matthews and Lawrence are noticing something."

John rubbed his eyes. "Thanks for telling me. I don't even know what I'm doing here." John paced around the room.

"No luck finding anything out then?"

John stopped. "He said he's afraid of clowns."

"And you believe him?"

"What do you think?"

* * *

*Lyrics from _West Side Story_


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Shawn trudged along as slowly as he could, wishing he could just stop time or, even better, rewind time to that day he first ran into the gang and avoid the trailer park. All too soon, he was surrounded by the whole gang again, getting ready for another night of wishing he was anywhere but there. They barely even spared him a glance. Their focus was on someone else. The guy looked like a wannabe rock star and clearly not too thrilled to be there. It took all of Shawn's will power to not bolt back in the other direction. He couldn't deal with a repeat of the other night. At least this druggie looked older than the other one—not that it made it any better in the end.

"Hunter Jr.," Sid called over to him. "Come over here. There's someone I want you to meet."

Shawn held his head high as he made his way over.

"This here," Sid began, while patting the guy on the shoulder for emphasis, "is Randy."

"Ralf," the guy corrected.

"Whatever." Sid walked around him predatorily. Shawn had to give the guy credit. He didn't shy away. If anything, he almost seemed to stand taller. "Roy here has been using our services—no, he's been taking advantage of our services for some time now. We've been cutting him breaks, but when we come to collect, he just tells us to shove off. I think our friend here needs a little persuasion to make him see things our way. Don't you think?"

Shawn just blinked.

"And I think you're the one to do it. Go ahead. Give it a try."

"I—what?" Shawn looked around at everyone. They weren't backing down.

"You've seen how we work. Do your thing. Have fun with it."

Shawn stared at Sid blankly for a moment before turning to Ralf. Ralf just stared right back. Another thug moved forward to hold the guy. Shawn started to raise his fist up but stopped himself. "Come on, man. Just give them the money. It's not worth it."

"I don't have it."

"Well, then . . . just, uh, make sure to have it to us by—let's say . . . the end of the week." He turned towards the gang members. "That work for you guys?"

Sid grabbed his arm. "Hunter, buddy." Shawn bit back the comment that he never wanted to be Sid's _buddy_. "Leave talking to the pansies. I believe the saying goes: actions speak louder than words. So, act. And no, that's not a request."

Shawn turned back to Ralf after Sid let him go. Maybe if he closed his eyes, it wouldn't be so bad. He raised up his fist and swung. Next thing he knew, there was an uproar. He opened his eyes to see one of the thugs holding his nose—and Ralf was running away.

Sid grabbed him roughly from behind. Shawn was whipped around so fast his head spun. He doubled over as Sid punched him repeatedly in the gut. He lost his balance. Everything happened so fast, he wasn't even sure what was going on or who was doing it. He just curled in on himself on the ground, trying to shield himself from everything. It ended as quickly as it began. He groaned and rolled over.

Someone grabbed his hair in a vice-like grip and yanked his head up. Sid's face was only inches from his own. "Listen carefully, kid. This is your last warning, got it?" He let go just as roughly. Shawn wouldn't be surprised if he found a whole chunk of hair missing. "We know where you live, so don't even think about trying to avoid us."

Shawn's eyes watered from the pain. He shut his eyes tight, trying to keep the tears at bay. Slowly, he heard the gang members all walk away. He wasn't sure how long he lay there. He didn't dare move until the pain lessened to a dull throb.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn sifted through the books in his locker. Cory stood next to him, rambling about something. He had to bail on him last night. He just hadn't been up to going out after . . . _that_. He just went straight back to the apartment, called Cory to tell him his plans took longer than he thought they would, told John he didn't feel well and went to sleep . . . well—he tried to, anyways. He was lucky if he managed to even get two hours last night. He couldn't get his thoughts to shut up long enough for him to fall asleep. The few times he came close, he'd blow it anytime he shifted the wrong way.

"Shawn, are you even listening to me?" Cory asked from beside him. "Shawn?" He whacked him lightly on the side to get his attention.

Shawn let out a quiet hiss of pain. He closed his eyes, praying Cory didn't hear it. He turned towards his friend. No such luck. He could just see the wheels turning in Cory's head.

"You went back there, didn't you?" It wasn't really a question. They both knew it. "You promised you wouldn't go alone."

"It wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, this time it really _was _a couple of thugs." Shawn bit down on his tongue. He shouldn't have said that, but he couldn't let Cory think his dad was responsible for this too—because he actually wasn't. His dad had never been this bad. He was treading dangerous waters here. He couldn't say anything else. It was getting harder for him to keep quiet about it all, but he had to.

Cory set his jaw and just stared at him for a moment. "I see," he said, finally. "Well, were these thugs drunk, overgrown, grey haired men?"

"This has nothing to do with him. I didn't even visit him yesterday."

"Uh, huh."

"Really, I didn't." For once, he was telling the truth, and his best friend didn't even believe him.

"So what were you doing in the trailer park?"

Shawn mentally swore. He forgot he didn't deny going there. Right about now, that was as good as an admission. "I was going to visit my dad, but decided against it. I ran into them on my way back."

One look at Cory told Shawn he still wasn't buying it. He watched as Cory opened his mouth to say something else before deciding to just grab his backpack and walk away. Shawn leaned back against the lockers, closed his eyes, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Jason frantically scanned through the call-back list. He let out a sigh of relief when he couldn't find his name. _Wait a minute_, he thought. He scanned through the list again. "Oh, Eric," he called.

"What?" Eric looked at the name Jason was pointing to. "You're kidding me." He was called back for one of the supporting roles—Doc.

Jason patted him on the back while Eric still stared at it in shock. "It's okay, man," he said. "This doesn't mean anything yet."

Eli Williams walked up to the two of them. "You guys didn't get anything, huh?"

Eric was still catatonic.

"I didn't, thank God, but Eric did," Jason said.

Eli burst out laughing and walked away.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn had a rhythm going with repackaging the drugs. It was almost comforting to be back to this simple task. Man, what did that say about him? Really, though, he was just glad this was a slow day. Other than sending a few glares his way and pounding their fists in their hands on occasion when he passed them or they passed him, the gang members were pretty much ignoring him today. They didn't have any _reminding_ or _debt collecting _to do, so he got off easy.

What was he going to do next time? As tough as he tried to be at school, he wasn't. He didn't have it in him to do what they wanted him to do. They obviously wouldn't let him stall any longer. Maybe he _should_ just tell John and the cops. Maybe the cops could help. Maybe no one would get hurt after all. If John knew there was trouble, they could go away for a few days until everything settled down and it was safe to come back.

Then again, maybe they wouldn't make it out in time. He heard all kinds of stories about dirty cops. What if there were some in the Philadelphia police department? What if some of them had a deal with this gang?

What if John kicked him out after he found out?

Shawn closed his eyes and just focused on breathing for a moment. That fear had been there ever since John took him in. He managed to suppress it for a while. Now it was back with a vengeance. Who would want some messed up kid who works for a drug ring? I mean—yeah, he was only doing it because they threatened him and those he cared about, but the wrong thing for the right reasons is still the wrong thing.

Deep down, he knew that wouldn't happen. John had told him time and again there was nothing he could do that would lead to that. It still didn't stop the worrying, though.

"Looks like we've got company," Lucas said.

Shawn looked up from his task. His heart stopped. He would recognize that curly head of hair anywhere. Cory wasn't too close yet. He wouldn't be able to tell what was going on, but it was clearly him and he was heading this way. _Shit_.

"I say we give him a warm welcome, don't you think, boys?" Sid said.

Shawn did not like the manic gleam in their eyes.

"Let me talk to him," he spoke up before he could even think about it. "I know, I know . . . talking is for pansies, but I can make him go away. Just let me try, alright?"

Sid glared at him, sizing him up again. Shawn tried not to flinch while both Cory's and his own life hung in the balance.

"If you fail, we do things our way."

Shawn dropped the latest bag in the box and walked purposefully over to Cory. He desperately tried to adopt at least a neutral look before he reached him. By the way Cory looked at him, though, he probably only achieved desperate.

"Hey, Cory, buddy," he said. Wow. That even sounded forced to his ears. "What brings you out here?"

"Gee, I don't know, Shawn."

He winced at how clipped Cory's tone was.

"You see, I've got this friend who promised me he wouldn't come here alone, then he shows up at school the next day, obviously hurt again. I was really hoping I wasn't going to find you here, but here we are. What am I supposed to think? Why do you keep letting him do this to you? If you keep breaking that promise, then I'm going to tell Turner. I know you want to protect your dad and all, but who's going to protect you, huh?"

"I don't need anyone to protect me, Cor."

"Of course, you don't."

"Just go home, please," Shawn said.

"Not unless you come with me."

Shawn ran his hand through his hair and looked around as casually as he could manage. Lucas was leaning against a nearby trailer, smoking a cigarette and easily within hearing range. Leaving wasn't an option for Shawn. He would be signing his own death warrant if he did.

"Who're your friends?" Cory asked.

Shawn looked over sharply at that. "Who do you mean?"

"The ones you were with before you came over. I think one of them followed you."

Why did Cory have to choose now to be observant?

"Just some old neighbors. The guy smoking is a cousin . . . on my dad's side." He hoped Cory bought that. "He wasn't following me. That's his trailer."

Cory just nodded. Thank God Cory knew most of his family lived here.

"So, what's it gonna be?" Cory asked. "Are we staying or going?"

Shawn could almost feel Lucas's gaze on him. "You're going. I'm staying."

"Shawn, we had a deal."

"I'm not breaking it. You said I needed to take someone with me when I visit my dad, so I am—my cousin."

"Does this cousin have a name?"

"Brad. No offense, Cor, but look at him. He could hold up against my dad better than you. Heck, a teddy bear could hold up better against him than you."

"Alright, so maybe I wouldn't be the best choice, but I am looking, and I gotta tell you—I don't trust him. He reminds me of Eddie and that little eleven-year-old."

"Nah, he's cool." Shawn hoped Cory didn't notice when his voice shook a bit. "I'll be fine."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Please, Cory. Just go."

Shawn held his breath, waiting for Cory to do something other than stare at him with that determined no-you-are-not-fine-and-we-both-know-it look. His heart pounded. The seconds ticked by. Neither of them seemed to move a muscle. Finally, Cory looked away first. He didn't say anything. He just walked away. Shawn exhaled, then turned around and headed back to the gang. Lucas followed closely behind.

Cory stopped and looked back. He noticed the almost predatory way Brad followed Shawn and the not so gentle shove one of the _old neighbors_ gave him. Something was going on that went beyond Chet Hunter. He didn't think Shawn lied about that. Why would he? But what would make him so desperate that he would use that as a cover?


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Cory shut the door behind him and rounded on Shawn. He had just dragged him into Turner's empty classroom after they finished eating lunch. Shawn had avoided talking to him all day. He couldn't even look Cory in the eye.

"What happened yesterday?" Cory asked.

"Nothing. I went to visit my dad. My cousin came with me. Nothing happened," Shawn deadpanned.

"I saw your so-called cousin follow you back to that _neighbor_ gathering. It didn't look like protecting you was anywhere on his list of things to do. Who was he really? What's going on?"

"I told you. He's my cousin. Nothing is going on. I'm fine."

Cory took a deep breath. Why was Shawn being so stubborn? "You've been avoiding me all day."

"I sat right behind you in all our classes and right beside you at lunch, just like I do every day."

"You haven't said anything. At all. All day."

"That's not avoiding. I just haven't had anything to say."

"Shawn," Cory raised his voice. "I've known you for forever. You're never this quiet."

Shawn didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. Cory was right.

"What's going on?"

Shawn turned around and looked back up at Cory. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep lying to his best friend. "I can't tell you."

Cory just raised his eyebrows. "We've always told each other everything."

"Not everything. I didn't tell you about my dad until a couple days ago."

"Well, you can tell me anything, you know. I want to help."

_He's starting to sound like John_, Shawn thought. "I told you. I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, alright?"

"Why can't you?

Shawn just stared at him.

"Why can't you?"

"Cory . . . ."

"Why can't you, Shawn?"

"Because they'll kill us if I do."

Dead silence was all that followed for several moments. Cory just stared at Shawn in shock.

Shawn couldn't get past the 'oh, shit' mantra going through his mind. He couldn't believe he had said that out loud. It was about all he could handle to keep from hyperventilating. The only reason he hadn't bolted through the door was because Cory was in the way. He didn't like the way Cory was looking at him either.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Cory finally asked.

"Just drop it, Cor."

"I can't just drop it."

"Yes. You can." Shawn couldn't stay there anymore. He had to get out. He didn't know where he would go, but he couldn't stay in this room with Cory. He needed air. He needed to be alone. He just needed to be . . . not here. He pushed past Cory and didn't look back.

Behind him, Cory just stood there, staring at where Shawn had just been. He was still trying to process everything when Mr. Turner walked into the classroom.

John stopped short when he saw Cory standing in the middle of the classroom just staring past him like he wasn't even really seeing anything.

"Matthews, you do realize you already had my class this morning, right?" John joked as he sat down on a desk just inside the doorway.

"What?" Cory blinked as he snapped out of it and focused on Turner. "Oh, yeah. I know."

"Is everything okay?"

Cory just stared at him for a moment. He knew Shawn didn't want him to say anything, but could he keep it from Turner? Or better yet, should he? He didn't want to betray Shawn's trust, but he also didn't want to lose his best friend and he was afraid that's what would happen if he kept quiet.

"It's Shawn," he said, finally. "We were just talking. I think he's in some kind of trouble."

"What kind of trouble? Did he tell you anything? Where is he?" John didn't even bother trying to keep the worry and fear out of his voice.

"I don't know. He said he couldn't talk about it. I think someone threatened him to keep him quiet."

John rubbed his eyes. Until Shawn opened up, he wasn't sure they could do anything, but the kid wouldn't talk about it. How the hell was he supposed to handle this?

"We can't let him go back to the trailer park alone," Cory said. "I think that's where all this started."

The bell rang.

Cory looked out into the hallway. John followed his gaze. Shawn was grabbing his books out of his locker. Good. At least he hadn't run. He was safe. For now.

"I should probably get to class," Cory said.

"Thank you for telling me." John nodded at Cory as he left.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Eric was pacing in front of the auditorium doors. The callback auditions were supposed to start any time now. He just hadn't had the nerve to go in yet. How awkward was this going to be? This time it wouldn't just be in front of the directors. It would be in front of everyone who received a callback—no pressure or anything. They said it was to help weed out anyone who had a severe case of stage fright. He glanced back at his watch and then Jason, who had been standing there watching him. "I should probably go in there now."

Jason nodded. "Good luck."

"I think that's bad luck in theatre," Eric said.

"Break a leg, then."

"Gee, thanks. Just what I need."

"It's another way of saying good look."

Eric looked confused for a moment. "Kind of a funny way to go about it."

"Well it . . ." Jason started, "actually, you're right. It is." He looked surprised. It wasn't often Eric was right about something.

Eric sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Thanks, man," he said before going through the doors.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Shawn barely glanced up as Cory came up beside him at the lockers. He had rushed out of his last class to try and get out of there before he had to encounter Cory again. No such luck.

"So, Shawnie," Cory started, "wanna come over my house? I got the new Madden game. Why don't we make it a marathon?"

Shawn slammed his locker door shut and threw his backpack over his shoulder. "Maybe later. I have something else I have to do."

"I have it on good authority you're free today," John said. Shawn hadn't even seen him walk up. He cringed as he looked over at him. "Go to the Matthews'." John had a no nonsense air about him. Shawn hated that right now. "You know what, why don't we make this a family affair? I'll come too. That okay with you, Matthews?"

"Yeah," Cory said.

Shawn looked between his best friend and his adoptive dad. They weren't going to let him out of this. They took away the only chance Shawn had of getting away. There was no way he could sneak out of Cory's house with John there. He couldn't come up with any excuse for why he had to leave, because John would just shut it down. He was trapped.

The gang knew where he lived. They said they would find him. If they found him, they would find John, too. He had to find a way to get back there tonight. He had to smooth things over. He had to do something.

He dimly realized John had moved to stand right in front of him. He had his hand on his shoulder and had been calling his name.

"Shawn, are you okay?" John's face was creased with worry lines. "Shawn," John said again.

"You'll be there, right?" Shawn finally asked.

"Yeah."

"The whole time?" He didn't want John to leave his sight. At least if they were together, he wouldn't have to worry as much. He would know what was going on. He would know John was okay, for now at least.

"If that's what you want."

"Okay." Shawn gave a slight nod. He tried to ignore the look John and Cory shot one another.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

"So, Eric," Mrs. Matthews started, "how did your audition go?"

"It went," Eric said.

Silverware scraping across plates was all the sound that could be heard. Shawn didn't even bother to glance up from his.

"How do you think you did? Do you think you got the part?" Mrs. Matthews prompted.

Shawn almost smirked. Thank you, Mrs. Matthews for trying to break this increasingly awkward silence.

"I don't know. I mean I remembered all the lines and all, and I really felt it, but the other guys were really good. I guess I'll find out. They're posting the cast list tomorrow," Eric said.

"Well, make sure to let us know how it turns out."

"Okay."

The sad thing was that this was the longest conversation they managed to have all night. All anyone seemed to want to do was shoot Shawn worried looks. John was the worst of them all. Shawn could almost feel his stare. He just kept his head down and ate as fast as he could without being suspicious. That was easier than facing their stares, knowing he was the cause of their worry.

He shouldn't be here. He should be at the trailer park keeping up his end of the bargain. They were already annoyed with him enough as it was. It wouldn't take much for them to decide to call it off. If they did, he was screwed.

Even if they didn't, he was still screwed, but at least he might have more time.

He couldn't tell anyone what was going on, because they would be in danger if he did. He couldn't do what the gang wanted him to do, because he couldn't stomach it. It just wasn't right. He couldn't go to the cops, because then both he and John were dead. If he did nothing, he was dead.

It was amazing how easy it was to ignore the little things in life that were such an important part of it—things like breathing and the heart beating. They were so natural and automatic, he hardly ever noticed any of it, but it just kept going on. They were so easy to take for granted.

He took a gulp of the soda he had been ignoring.

Shawn glanced at the clock and tried not to fidget. He accidentally caught John's eyes before he managed to look back down at his plate. The concern he found there was unmistakable. He gulped down more of his soda. His plate was empty, and thus so was his acceptable distraction.

"Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Matthews," Shawn finally spoke up. He forced himself to look directly at her.

"It's no problem, Shawn. You know you're welcome here anytime. You too, John," Mrs. Matthews said.

"Thanks," John said. It looked like he was done, too—at least with what he could eat. Shawn tried to ignore the guilt in the pit of his stomach over presumably causing that problem too.

"Well, kiddo, are you ready to head home?"

"Yeah." Shawn held back a sigh of relief. Maybe he could salvage the situation for now after all. It wasn't _that_ late. "Thanks again." He nodded to Mrs. Matthews as both he and John stood up. "I'll see you later, Cor." _I hope_.

Shawn tried to give John a small smile when he looked his way. Whether he succeeded or not is another story. John just put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Shawn relaxed the slightest bit. He was safe here in this moment, even if it was only brief. He swallowed hard. That feeling was gone as soon as it came.

The car ride home was just as silent. Shawn stared out the window and watched the scenery pass by. He wrung his hands in his lap. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to keep them still. He closed his eyes and just focused on breathing.

"Shawn," he heard. "We're home."

He jolted when he felt John give him a gentle shake. The man must have thought he fell asleep. Maybe he had. He didn't really know. He looked up at him. John opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, then just closed it again. Shawn didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved. He didn't really feel anything, actually. He was just tired—physically, emotionally . . . just tired.

He got out and closed his door with a resounding thud. Would he ever hear that sound again?

He really needed to stop thinking like that.

He tore his gaze away from the door and trudged on alongside John. A gentle breeze blew, ruffling his hair slightly. The cool air felt refreshing. It really was a nice evening. He could see all the stars shining. Barely any clouds covered them. A harvest moon shone that night. The orange tint was so beautiful. He had never really noticed or appreciated it before.

He grabbed hold of the apartment building door John held open for him. The feel of the paint chipped metal was slightly cool and rough to the touch. He had never realized what a neat effect the charcoal color breaking through the red paint created. He stepped through the door and let it shut behind him. John had stopped and was just looking back at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He really needed to stop letting himself get distracted so much. John was worried enough, as it was. He didn't need to give the man even more reason to be so.

He really did love John like a dad. The man was always there for him. He always made sure Shawn felt at home with him and that he knew he would always have a place with him. In the short time they had been a little family, John had been more of a father to him than his own ever had. If he had still been living with Chet, his biological dad probably never would have even noticed anything was wrong. If he ever found out Shawn had any injuries he didn't know about, he probably would have just figured he had been too drunk to remember causing them. Shawn's life was so good now. He had a roof over his head and a window to climb out of, even if it was a few stories up. He had food in the fridge and a dad who made sure there always would be. He had a dad who cared about him and who made a point of talking to him if there was even the slightest indication something might be wrong. He had a dad who wouldn't take off on him and leave him homeless and an orphan. He wanted to let John know how grateful he was, but he didn't want to worry the man any further by saying something like that seemingly out of nowhere.

The telltale sound of metal scraping metal sounded as John unlocked their apartment door. The door swung open in what seemed to be slow motion. Shawn followed John into the dark apartment. John flipped the light switch. Shawn froze.

The kitchen chairs were knocked over. The silverware drawer was dumped out. The table lamp by the phone was on the floor, the lamp shade torn and light bulb shattered. It looked like someone had just shoved everything on that shelf off in a rush. The blinds over the window were bent out of shape, and the window appeared to be broken. Glass shards sparkled from the overhead light. The TV was knocked off the stand. Movies they kept stored in the stand had been pulled out and just left in a pile . . . .

Shawn gasped for breath. He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't. They came for him and John. The deal was off. He was screwed. John was screwed. The edges of his vision started going dark. He could hear John talking to someone on the phone—probably the cops—but he couldn't make out what he was saying. It was like he was trying to listen through cotton in his ears. He started swaying. He had to calm down. Using what little strength he had, he forced his feet to start moving and sank down into the couch. He put his head down and just focused on breathing in and out, trying desperately to slow it down.

Slowly, his vision started to clear. He was breathing easier. He looked over at John. The man was still on the phone and thankfully had his back to him. He didn't seem to have noticed Shawn's freak out. He was a little too preoccupied with whoever he was talking to right now. Good.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Cory sat at his kitchen table just staring off into space.

"Why do I get the feeling something's bothering you?" His dad asked. "Is it about Shawn?"

"Who else?" Cory glanced over at him as he sat down. "I don't know what's going on. I mean first he comes to school with that bruise. I know he's been hurt more than that. Topanga and I tried talking to him. He did tell us something, but I think there's more going on than what he told us."

"Well, what did he tell you?"

Cory hesitated. "I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone. So did Topanga. Besides, I don't think that's the main problem. I think he just told us that so he didn't have to tell us what's really going on." Cory frowned at the table. "I confronted him about it today. He said he couldn't tell me anything, because _they _would kill us if he did. Why would someone threaten him?"

Cory looked back up at his dad. He knew hoping his dad had any more answers than he or John did was a false hope. His dad was starting to look like Mr. Turner had been.

"I'm sure he was exaggerating, I hope." His face took on that stern parenting face he got any time things got serious. "Have you told John about this?"

"Yeah, I mean—not in so many words, but yeah, I told him. Unlike the other thing Shawn told me, I couldn't keep this secret." Cory sighed. "I'm not even sure I should have kept the other secret, but . . . ." He shrugged. He didn't know what to do. He just hoped everything would turn out okay. I mean—it had to, right? It always did, so this time wouldn't be any different. He just had to keep telling himself that.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

John stepped aside to let Eli into his apartment. The cops were still there, taking pictures and whatnot.

"Man, what happened here?" Eli asked, with his usual tact.

"They think it was just a couple of kids. It was like this when Shawn and I got back from the Matthews'."

"How's Shawn doing?"

"I don't know. I really don't know." The kid had seemed pretty out of it all evening. John had wanted to talk to him, but he didn't even know where to start. He had been trying to be patient and hope Shawn would come to him when he was ready. Obviously that didn't seem to go too well.

"Where is he, by the way?" Eli asked.

"Probably in his room."

"I'll go check. You should probably stay out here in case they have other questions."

John nodded. "Okay, thanks."

He had been lucky. A cop car had been making rounds in this part of the city when he called the station to report this. It was a quiet night, so they took the case pretty quickly. He hadn't even been off the phone for five minutes before they knocked on his door.

He had found Shawn sitting on the couch when he hung up the phone. All things considered, he looked okay—a little freaked out, but okay. He tried talking to him. Shawn's answers were short and just amounted to: "I'm fine. Leave me alone." He would have to sit down and have a long talk with him later.

John looked up when Eli came back out.

"I think we have a problem," Eli said. "Shawn's missing."

"What?" He had just left the room for one minute, if that even. Shawn hadn't been there when he got back. He just assumed he was in his room. Why didn't he check? Where would he have gone? Why would he run away? His mind went back to the conversation he had with Cory earlier that day. He hoped he was wrong. He really hoped he was wrong.

"I have to find him," John said, more to himself. "Now."

"Where to?" Eli asked. "I'll drive."

"The trailer park, I think. Matthews said something about not letting Shawn go back there alone. I think whatever's been going on with him has to do with that. I have to find him."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

The thumping sound of his heavy footfalls echoed loudly in his ears. Shawn desperately wished he could go back to that void-like feeling he had before. He ran the path from the apartment to the trailer park almost on auto pilot, caught in the strange place between wanting to delay his arrival while also wanting to get there as soon as possible in hopes that maybe a speedy arrival would mean he had a better chance at delaying the inevitable. All he wanted to do was run—to get as far away from here as possible so he could just forget about all of this and move on with his life without any fear of what would happen to him if he screwed up. The one major flaw in that plan was the thought of everyone he would leave behind. Shawn may be out of danger if he left, but then he would condemn everyone he cared about. He didn't think he had it in him to leave them behind either. He loved them. They were his family, even if they weren't blood related. They never gave up on him even when he was ready to give up on himself. They were his lifeline. Though they may never know it, they're what really helped him get through this.

How the hell would he get out of this mess?

He didn't want to die. He just wanted to be a kid—a living, breathing kid. He wanted to come up with more harebrained schemes with Cory. He wanted to date every available girl at John Adam's High, with no strings attached. He wanted to give John a hard time whenever the man tried to get him to do homework. He wanted to grow up. Maybe go to college. See Europe. Make something of himself. He wanted to live.

His pounding heartbeat matched the rhythm of his racing feet. He gasped for breath as he pushed his limits more and more. He didn't want to face what was waiting for him. Who would? But he also hated this limbo. He may be semi-safe right now, but the fear that gripped him wouldn't let him go. He was tired of worrying all the time. He was tired of watching what he said or how he acted. He was tired of being scared about what tomorrow—heck, the next minute—would bring . . . about if there would even be another tomorrow—or another minute. He just wanted whatever was going to happen to happen so he could move on with his life—or afterlife.

He was stuck in this place of wanting to move forward and stand still all at the same time. He couldn't have both, so he let his feet decide for him. He just let himself go along for the ride and used the exercise to help release his pent up fear, frustration, and anger. He was angry this happened to him—that just when everything in his life seemed to finally reach some kind of balance, this shit had to happen and screw it all up again.

He thought back to that addict the gang dumped in the woods—the one he watched die. His final request had been to say goodbye to his family. Shawn understood him back then. He understood him even better now. He hoped beyond hope he could somehow make it out of this alive. If he couldn't, his biggest regret was that he couldn't tell everyone he cared about just how much they meant to him: Cory, Topanga, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews, Mr. Feeny, John . . . . He should have written a letter before he left.

He passed the "Pink Flamingo Trailer Park" sign followed by trailer after almost identical trailer. There, in a slight clearing towards the center, stood the gang. He stopped dead in his tracks just out of their sight. He ducked behind a trailer and took a moment to get his breathing back under control. When he faced them, he would do so with his head held high. He wouldn't back down until he had no choice. He would talk his way out of it as much as he could.

In the space of a few seconds, he prayed more than he had his entire life. He wasn't even sure what he believed or if he even believed anything, but right now that didn't matter. His frantic thoughts poured out in one jumbled up mess.

_God, if you're listening, give me strength. _

Shawn took one final deep breath before stepping out from behind the trailer. Shoulders back, head held high, heart pounding, he walked steadily forward.

"You've really got some guts, kid," Lukas said.

Shawn didn't even acknowledge him. With that comment, the whole gang rounded on him. He kept walking forward, ignoring all of the glares sent his way, and didn't stop until he reached Sid.

"I didn't bail out on you," he said. "I just couldn't get here till now."

"You expect me to believe that, kid?" Sid threw the cigarette he had been smoking down on the ground. "No. I think you saw what my little redecorating committee did, got scared, and now you're crawling back. I gave you a chance—multiple chances."

"I know. All I'm asking for is one more." Thank God his voice stayed strong and stready.

"Do you hear that, everyone? He wants another chance," Sid mocked. The gang laughed. "Sorry, kid. We're done playing with you."

Shawn looked around. The cage was closing in again. He looked back at Sid and glared. "That's what you've been doing all along, isn't it? You never really wanted me in the gang. You were just having fun with me, waiting till I screwed up so you could end it. I never even stood a chance, did I?"

Sid smirked. "If you proved yourself to be a tough guy like your brother, you would have. I didn't believe you could for even a second. We only gave you a chance 'cause he asked us to."

Shawn nodded. "So, Eddie's kind of important to you guys. Do you really want to kill his brother?" His mouth went dry. If his heart were pounding any harder, it would jump right through his chest. He used all of his will power to keep any of that from showing on his face. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"We didn't even know he had a brother till you showed up. You can't be that important to him. He'll get over it."

Shawn reeled back when Sid punched him in the face. He stumbled back and fell, immediately curling into a protective ball to shield himself from the blows he knew would start anytime now. A second went by with nothing happening—then another second . . . and another.

"You better have a good reason for this, Hunter." Sid's tone was deadly.

Shawn looked up. Eddie stood between him and some of the other gang members. Maybe he cared more than Sid thought.

"The kid won't squeal. Let him go," Eddie said.

Sid stepped forward until the two were facing off, only inches apart from one another. "Move out of the way, Hunter."

Shawn shivered. Sid looked downright murderous.

"Make me."

Shawn and Eddie may have never got along. Eddie had never been Shawn's favorite person. Right now, he was his hero.

The two just stood there, glaring at one another. No one moved an inch. Shawn barely dared breathe. It was like time stopped for a moment. Everyone seemed to just be waiting to see what Sid would do.

Sid started to back away. Shawn relaxed and let out the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding.

Sid drew his fist back and let it fly. Eddie blocked. All hell broke loose.

Shawn stayed frozen in his spot. Not even a minute ago, he thought it was all over for him. Now, he just sat there watching as everyone converged on Eddie. They seemed to have forgotten about him for the moment. He didn't know what to do. If he was going to escape, now was the moment, but Eddie stood up for him—tried to save him. He was the one in trouble now. Could he just leave him behind? Eddie was doing much better than he ever would. Shawn wouldn't be much help here. Eddie was doing this for him. He wouldn't let it be in vain.

Shawn slowly stood up and started to slowly back away. He kept his eyes glued to the scene before him. He wouldn't dare to look away until he was far enough to not be discovered. He backed into something solid.

"Where do you think you're going?"

_Shit. _Why didn't he remember there were still people behind him?

Someone grabbed Shawn's arm in a death grip and whipped him around so fast his head spun. Why did it have to be Lukas? The guy had muscles on his muscles. Shawn dug his heels into the ground and tried to jerk his arm away from him. The grip was too strong. His feet slid along the ground as Lukas dragged him back towards the gang. The closer they got, the harder Shawn struggled against him.

He wished more than anything he could thank John for everything. He wanted to say goodbye. He wanted them to know why this happened. Now they would never know. They would look for him and never be able to find him. There was a sinking feeling in his chest just thinking about what this would do to John and Cory. They looked so worried before. Now he would be causing them even more worry.

Shawn winced as Lukas twisted his arm behind his back. He couldn't move. It felt like his arm would break if he did.

A quick glance around showed him that Eddie, while a little worse for the wear, was still holding his own . . . and still busy with his own problems.

Lukas's grip on his arm got even tighter. The gang members not busy going at Eddie circled him. The thug he dubbed as 'Evil Harley' stepped in front of him. The predatory smirk on his face made the hair stand up on the back of Shawn's neck. He didn't know how long they just stood there. He knew in retrospect it wasn't long, but in that moment, it felt like an eternity. He wished they would just get it over with already. He hated waiting in this limbo. Then it began. 'Evil Harley' punched him repeatedly in the gut. Shawn tried to curl in on himself. He bit back a cry when his arm twisted even further. If felt like thousands of needles pierced every inch of his arm. His stomach felt swollen, like it was being pounded by a freaking meat mallet. He took it back. He wanted to be back in limbo.

He barely even registered when 'Evil Harley' let up and a new thug took his place—or the one after that. Shawn's head whipped back when someone started punching him in the face. Shawn gagged on the metallic taste in his mouth. His lip felt swollen. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to see what was going on. He just wanted to go home.

He hit the ground hard. Lukas must have thrown him forward. He curled up into a ball, trying to shield himself with his arms and legs. They began kicking him. He didn't even try to distinguish where and when. It was just a haze of blows that wouldn't stop. He wanted it to end. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted it to stop.

_Please. Just let it stop_.

"Shawn," he heard a panicked voice call. He thought he would never hear that voice again.

SHSHSHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSH

John kept digging his foot into the floor of the car, like that would somehow make Eli drive faster. Something was wrong. He knew it. Why didn't he force Shawn to talk before? Something had obviously been going on and he just let it happen. He had to find him. He had to make sure he was okay. He would make sure they got through this—whatever this was—together.

"Eli, can't you go any faster?" He finally snapped.

"We've got a cop car following us—at your request, I might add. Do you want to get pulled over?"

"This is Shawn's life we're talking about here."

"Getting pulled over would just take more time."

John almost growled in frustration. He knew his friend was right, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

They passed the "Pink Flamingo Trailer Park" sign. _Finally_.

Eli drove carefully through the park between the trailers.

John didn't even wait for Eli to fully stop the car before unbuckling and jumping out when he saw a group of shady looking people—Shawn was right in the middle of it all getting the crap beat out of him.

"Shawn," he yelled. He started to run to him, but Eli held him back.

"Let the cops do their job," Eli said.

John looked around. The cops had pulled up behind them and were already calling for back up and an ambulance while assessing the situation. They pulled out their guns and fired off a few warning shots. Most of the group dispersed. The rest was a blur of commotion as the cops got the situation under control.

John breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Shawn get up. He seemed to be standing okay on his own while he was talking to one of the officers. Another car pulled up and they started carting some of the thugs over to the police cars. Shawn glanced over his way and John tried to give him a reassuring look. It looked like Shawn said something else to the officer and then started to walk towards him. John walked forward to meet him.

Neither one said anything. John just pulled him into a hug. Shawn wrapped his arms around him instantly. They held onto each other for the longest time, both afraid to let go. John kissed the top of his head. It seemed that fatherly gesture was what finally opened the floodgates. He rubbed soothing circles on Shawn's back as his son's body shook with sobs.

It was over. Shawn was hurt, but alive. Everything would be okay.

John closed his eyes against the tears that wanted to fall and sent up a prayer of thanks.

* * *

A/N: Just one more chapter and an epilogue to go. Thank you everyone for reading this story. A special thank you goes out to everyone who started reading before and didn't give up on it, despite the long hiatus. I apologize for that. The rest of the story has been written. I'll continue to post once a week.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

John kept his arm around Shawn supportively as they walked back into the apartment. The place was still a mess. He hadn't been able to clean it before the cops got there, since they needed to see it—then he found out Shawn was missing . . . .

Shawn was really lucky. John didn't know all the details yet, but that's what the ranking officer had told him. That's also what the paramedics told him. He rode with Shawn to the hospital. They wanted to check him in to make sure he was okay before sending him home. They ran an x-ray on his arm. It was just sprained, thankfully. He didn't seem to have any major internal bleeding. After a few hours of poking, prodding, and checking his vitals, the hospital staff wrote out a prescription for some pain killers and released him from the hospital.

He led him over to the couch. "Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm good," Shawn said.

John sat next to him and turned to face him. He took a few deep breaths to suppress his anger at seeing Shawn look like this. The kid was a mess. He had a black eye, split lip, bruises on his cheeks, and his eyebrow needed a couple stitches—and that's just what he could see. Those punks better be put away for a long time for this, or he would not be held accountable for his actions.

"What happened?" He tried to keep his tone as soothing and gentle as possible.

Shawn looked down and started fiddling with the hem on his shirt. John just sat there, waiting patiently. Shawn would talk when he was ready. They needed to talk about this, but he wouldn't push him.

The silence stretched on for a good few minutes before Shawn finally spoke up. He told John all about how he first ran into the gang early last week, how they had given him the ultimatum that he join them and not tell anyone anything or else they would kill him and anyone he told, how he kept going back and doing what they wanted him to, how he lied about the trip with his dad and spent the weekend in a warehouse with them . . . about everything with the gang that led up to what happened that night.

John just sat there and listened. He knew something had been going on, but he had no idea . . . .

"I think I understand Tom Sawyer a lot better, now," Shawn finished.

John just cracked a small smile at that. Shawn Hunter referencing a literary character . . . .

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," John said. "In the future, I don't care what anyone tells you, I want you to come to me and let me know what's going on, alright? We can figure it out together." John waited for some kind of response. All he got was a small nod. It was a start. Wait a minute. He looked at Shawn's cheek and saw the still healing older bruise beneath the fresh ones. "You did try to tell me and I just let it go," he said softy, almost to himself. What the hell had he been thinking? Shawn had told him some thug hit him and he did nothing. He looked over at him, ready to offer an apology, then stopped. Shawn was finally looking at him, but it wasn't with a look of betrayal or disappointment. He looked confused.

"What are you talking about?" Shawn asked.

"When I came home the other day and found out you were hurt, you said a thug hit you. You were trying to tell me something then and I—" John stopped himself. Shawn looked guilty about something. Why did he look guilty about something? The kid shifted in his seat and winced a bit at the movement. John could almost see some kind of internal struggle going on by all the emotions playing across his face.

Shawn looked back down again. "That actually wasn't the gang. It . . . ." The kid almost seemed to start folding in on himself. John put his hand on Shawn's shoulder and just waited. What else could possibly be going on here? "That was the night that the, um, the, uh . . . ." He cleared his throat. "After they dumped the—the body, I—um . . . ." John squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Shawn seemed to take a moment to compose himself. "I went to my dad's. He's never noticed things like you do, so I thought it would give me a chance to clean up and pull myself together."

"Clean up?" John questioned, gently.

"Yeah, um, I got sick after . . . ."

John gave a small nod of understanding. He could only imagine what that must have been like. He waited for Shawn to continue. The silence stretched on. "What happened?" John finally prompted.

"I didn't notice he had been drinking till after he already knew I was there. We had a few words. I said some things I probably shouldn't have said." It came out as little more than a whisper, but every word seemed to cut through the silence. "Next thing I knew, I was on the ground."

John felt as if someone punched him in the gut. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Chet hit you?" he clarified.

"Yeah. He did."

John bit back a string of profanities. The last thing he wanted to do was chance scaring the kid. He took a deep breath. "How long has this been going on?"

"That was the only time since he came back," Shawn said. "Usually, I can tell if he's been drinking as soon as I open the door. I never visit unless he's sober, but I was kind of out of it that day."

John felt a small amount of relief at that. It didn't escape his notice, though, that Shawn hadn't really answered. "And before he left?"

Shawn just shrugged. "You're my dad now. It doesn't really matter anymore."

"Yes, Shawn, it does matter, because _you_ matter."

Shawn looked up. The two sat there, just staring at one another for a while. John wanted to say more, but he felt like he had to give Shawn some time—to let those words sink in and hope he believed them. He needed Shawn to believe that. He didn't know how much the abuse had affected the kid and how much it was still affecting him. He almost didn't want to know how long he had been dealing with it, but he needed to know so he knew how to help him through this.

"On and off for years, I guess," Shawn said. "It got worse after he lost his job. I was in sixth grade. He had more time on his hands and was kind of depressed, so he started drinking more." Shawn looked away. "It was never really that bad. I mean—not like this." He gestured to himself, indicating all the gang-induced injuries. "Just some man-handling, a shove every now and then, and a couple of hits." He shrugged. "I don't think he meant any of it. He just—I don't know—lost control, I guess. It doesn't take much to make him mad when he's drunk, and once I set him off, things just happened."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. The kid was actually defending Chet. How does anyone handle a situation like this? Nothing could have prepared him for this conversation. He loved the kid like he was his own son. It didn't matter that he wasn't biologically—though, he wished he was so that he could've spared him from all of that. "Shawn, I'm so sorry. I had no idea . . . ."

"It's not like it's your fault."

"You didn't deserve any of that. You know that, right?"

With his head still down and looking anywhere except John, Shawn just gave a slight shrug. John wished he would make some eye contact. "Shawn?"

"Yeah . . . yeah, I guess. Some days. Others . . . ." The kid shrugged again.

It was a good start. John nodded. He could work with that. "Then I'll just keep reminding you until you can believe it every day. We'll take this one step at a time. I'll be right here with you, bud, every step of the way."

Shawn looked up at him and gave a small, but genuine, smile. "Thanks, John."

"You're welcome, kiddo." John smiled back at him.

"I mean, for everything." Shawn stopped for a moment and turned to face him fully. "In the year I've been here, you've been like more of a dad to me than my own ever was. I honestly don't know where I'd be right now, if it wasn't for you. I just . . . I needed you to know that."

A warm feeling spread in his chest. He hugged Shawn to him for a moment. "I love you, son," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"I love you, too, dad." Shawn's voice was muffled by John's shirt, but John heard it all the same.

They both sat back. John noticed Shawn's eyelids drooping. He glanced at the clock. "It's getting late. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Shawn started to get up. John looked over worriedly when he let out a groan. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Are the pain meds wearing off?"

"John. Relax. I was just thinking about school tomorrow. That's gonna suck."

Wow. Shawn Hunter worried about school. He must be even worse than John thought. "Don't worry about it kiddo. I'll call Feeny in the morning and explain the situation. We'll both take the day off."

"Cool," Shawn said. A quirky grin spread across his face. "Hey, maybe I should get mixed up with more gangs if it means parentally approved skipping."

John glared.

"I was kidding. Geez, John. Relax a little."

John smiled. He would be okay. If the kid was able to start joking about it already, he would be fine. They would get through this one day at a time.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Eric ran his finger down the musical cast list as he looked to see who got what parts. Jason stood behind him, tapping his foot. Eric's finger hovered and stalled over the list.

"Well, what is it?" Jason asked. "Anything?"

Eric stared at the page. "I got it," he said, his voice shocked. "I got the part." A smile slowly spread across his face. He looked over at Jason and cleared his throat. "Aw man, this sucks."

"I'm sure it won't be _that_ bad," Jason said. "Congrats."

Eric looked back at the list. "Thanks." He smiled. Funny . . . he didn't want this in the beginning, but after all that work, it felt good to have something come of it. "Oh, and you're in the Jets chorus."

"I'm what?"

Eric smiled at the edge in his friend's voice.

"Not many guys tried out, so everyone made it." Eric just smiled wider at Jason's glare. He threw his arm casually around his friend's shoulder. "Just think of it this way—you may be dancing like a hippie on steroids—which, by the way, I don't have to do—but you'll be a cool gangsta while you're doing it."

"You are so dead."

Eric sprinted away, with Jason chasing after him.

Eli Williams just stared after the two for a minute before shaking his head, laughing as he walked away. Sometimes these hallways were better than reality TV.

* * *

A/N: Just the epilogue left. I might post a bonus chapter that's a preview for the next story I'll be working on, if I finish the preview chapter in time. We'll see.


	21. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World _or _West Side Story_.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Shawn focused on just keeping his breathing steady. The scene before him wasn't real. It was just part of the show. Some of the Jets and the Sharks were fighting one another in a surreal dancelike movement to the swelling of the orchestral music. They were taking swings at one another until two of them pulled out knives. Shawn looked away when Bernardo stabbed Riff. He caught John's gaze and instantly snapped back to reality. It wasn't real. It was just Eric's show—_West Side Story_. He gave a weak smile and a nod at John's questioning gaze before looking back towards the stage.

Eric was amazing. Shawn had known him for almost as long as he knew Cory. He never knew he could act. He wasn't sure what was more shocking—that Eric _could_ act or that he played the responsible adult so well. Who would have thought? They always did say it was easier to play a character that was the opposite of how the actor usually behaved in real life. There must be some truth to that.

Despite the blurring of fiction and reality in his mind from time to time, he was glad he came. Everyone told him he didn't have to—even Eric. They all knew about what had happened to him two months ago. They were all aware that watching a show about two warring gangs could potentially be difficult for him—even if the show were a musical and the situation were different from his own. He told them all he would be fine. He wouldn't miss this for anything.

He remembered back when he first saw Cory after everything happened. It was at school the following Monday. His friend took one look at him, then walked past him and straight over to John.

"Mr. Turner, there's something I should have told you before, but I didn't because I promised Shawn." Cory looked back at him. "I'm sorry, Shawn, but I have to do this. I never should have agreed to keep it secret in the first place." He turned back to John. "Mr. Turner, it's about his dad. He—"

"Cory. He knows. I told him."

Shawn watched as Cory glanced back and forth between the two before finally settling his gaze back on him.

"Did you really?"

"Yeah. He did," John answered for him.

"Huh," Cory said. "Okay then. I guess my work here is finished. And I'm not apologizing for breaking my promise."

"You don't need to apologize. You're just being a good friend," Shawn said. He swallowed and looked away for a moment. This was the first they had spoken since everything happened. "Thank you."

Intermission came and went. Shawn just talked and joked with Cory and Topanga about meaningless subject after meaningless subject. It felt good be able to do that again.

John had been great through everything. He kept his word and stood right by him as he recovered physically and emotionally. That man was going to get the best Fathers' Day gift ever this year—well, technically it would be his first, but it was the thought that counts. Shawn didn't even know how many nights he woke up from nightmares to find John already in his room, ready to talk to him about it or just be there until he could calm down and fall back to sleep. He didn't have many anymore. They were few and far between and not as bad.

Though he fought it at first, he did eventually agree to go see a counselor. John kept reassuring him that it didn't mean there was anything wrong with him. There was no shame in seeking out help, and as much as he would be there for him, he knew it might be beneficial to speak with a professional. John told him he also knew there were some things Shawn needed to talk to someone about that he might find easier to tell a counselor rather than his friends and family. Shawn agreed. He was going once a week. It seemed to help. He wouldn't have to keep going indefinitely. In fact, his counselor told him that if everything went well, they might be able to cut their sessions back to once every two weeks soon.

The sessions were for more than just the trauma from the gang incident. They talked about his dad, too. He had already been off to a good start with dealing with everything. Between John and his therapist, he was making even more progress. It would still take time, but he was getting there.

Shawn stood up, whistling and clapping loudly, when Eric came forward to take his bow. The rest of his friends and family were up there with him, John on his right and Cory on his left.

The group left the auditorium and waited for Eric out in the lobby.

Chet was forced to attend AA meetings regularly. Shawn was allowed to see him once a week, but all visits had to be supervised. Chet only attended two meetings before taking off again. Shawn hadn't seen or heard from him since. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Maybe it was for the best.

"You okay?" John asked.

Shawn looked over at his guardian. He stopped himself from answering automatically. That's one thing both John and his counselor talked to him about. He had to answer honestly when people asked how he was doing so they could help him. He looked around the room. He saw Eric come through the doors to meet them. He was grinning a smile even bigger than that cheesy weatherman smile he had trademarked. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Matthews hugging and congratulating their son. He saw Mr. Feeny patting him on the back. He saw Cory and Topanga holding hands like they were an extension of one another rather than the two individual people they were. He saw John—his mentor, his friend . . . his dad. "Yeah," he finally answered. "I think I am."

John stared at Shawn, really studying him. The kid looked more relaxed than he had seen him in a long time. He had a small, almost euphoric smile, gracing his face. He met his gaze head on.

John smiled. "Good." He ruffled the kid's hair and led him over to the rest of the group. For the first time since everything started, John believed Shawn truly was fine.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you everyone who followed this story. The support has been amazing.

I've added a bonus chapter onto this, for anyone who's interested. It's a preview of the next story I'll be posting. There's more information about it in that chapter posting.

Since this is the end of the story, I wanted to give a shout-out to everyone who reviewed:

Jessica, ImAGiver, Tiffanie, Fiona12690, Nike316, Ghostwriter, Whatnoww, Marie, Sarah, Sue, Zippy, MalikaiDragonSlayer, Lazuli the Fallen Angel, Anna, Nikkimbt02, TwinklyMarshmellowSnowPuffle, Amanda, Droupy48, MayRaah, Supernatural16, KaNugget, Guest, Alyssa, Gracefulfalling, firewordsparkler, Nicole, MilyMB, Shanachie, Alex, Ceri, Michalka, Avery, Raye, Lightsider, erotikpolitician, Kristin

Thanks again everyone!

Until next time . . . .

musical geek


	22. The Island Preview Chapter

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Boy Meets World_.

**A/N: **This chapter is a preview of the next story I'll be posting. I've learned from past mistakes and have decided I won't officially start posting this story until it is fully written—that way all I'll have to worry about from week to week will be final revisions and polishing, so the updates should be more regular—but I did want to post a preview chapter as a little teaser trailer, I guess.

This story, titled "The Island" for now, will actually be the first of a six part series. I should probably put the warning out there that this series will become increasingly more AU as it goes along. I will do my best to keep every character in character so that any differences in how the characters change and grow throughout this series as opposed to the TV show would still be believable for them when taking into consideration their different experiences. This series will also be a little unorthodox for _Boy Meets World_ fanfiction, but I wanted to give it a try.

There will be an OC heavily featured in this story. I know . . . this is always a major risk for any fanfiction story. The idea, though, is for this character to be an additional cast member to the show rather than the new titular character, as all those _Girl Meets World_ articles keep dubbing Cory from the original _Boy Meets World_ series. This is a character that I've been developing for years, and I feel like I need to write her story in some form. I've come up with multiple variations of her storyline and background through multiple fandoms and even some original fiction ideas. No matter how hard I've tried to make her story original, though, it's still way too derivative of a show I watched growing up for me to be okay with telling her story in fully original fiction, so I think fanfiction is the best way to go. I chose one of the versions of her story I came up with for _Boy Meets World_ because it's not a series that a character like this would typically be placed. This will make it a bit of a challenge, and I'm a firm believer that the only way writers can grow and improve is if they challenge themselves. Here's hoping it works out.

**Title: **"The Island" (working title - I'll make sure to include this title in the summary if I come up with a better one.)

**Genre:** Adventure / Family

**Rating: **T

**Boy Meets World Timeline: **After season 4, assuming an alternate ending to the "Cult Fiction" episode.

**Summary:** After winning the lottery, the Matthews family and Company take a trip to a vacation resort that ends in disaster—stranded on a seemingly deserted island with a girl full of secrets.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Shawn clutched the armrests of his chair. He dimly noticed himself grabbing John's hand beside him. The airplane shook around them, the turbulence growing more and more violent as the seconds drew on. An oxygen mask hung in front of him. He ignored it. John had tried to get him to put it on, but Shawn noticed John was ignoring his, too. Looking around, it seemed Cory was the only one who even bothered. What was the point? It was almost cruel to be taunting them with something that was supposed to help but would really accomplish so little. They'd all be crashing in the ocean any time now. He shut his eyes, waiting.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Three Weeks Earlier_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
_

"Hey, Cor," Shawn said as he walked into the Matthews' house. He didn't even bother knocking anymore. Mrs. Matthews had more or less told him he was family, so the standard courtesy rules didn't really apply anymore. For years, his way of going in and out of the house was through Cory's window with or without permission, so he just shrugged and started using the door instead.

"Hey, Shawn," Cory greeted. He was seated at the kitchen table looking through an old yearbook.

Shawn headed straight over for the fridge and grabbed a soda before making himself comfortable on the counter behind his friend. "What's made you all nostalgic?"

"Nostalgic?" Cory said. "That's a big boy word."

"I'm living with an English teacher. It was bound to rub off on me sooner or later."

"If you were living with Feeny, I could see that, but Turner is more on our level."

"He promised he'd let me learn how to drive his bike if and when I finished all the summer reading. I don't think he thought I would actually do it." Shawn smirked. He remembered that conversation. John promptly quizzed him on everything he read before he would believe him, then commented on how Shawn never finished any homework that fast. Shawn pointed out he'd never had the incentive before. He didn't think he had ever seen John as scared as he was when he started teaching Shawn the controls on the bike and let him take it for a spin around a parking lot. Really, what did the man expect? The man owned a Harley and had a rebellious teen living with him. Did he really think the two wouldn't collide someday?

It had been several weeks since he had gone back to living with John after everything at the Center. He remembered how much he had fought Turner's attempts at finding a bigger place for the two of them to live before his dad finally came back in town and he moved back in with him. He had told Cory back then that he was tired of moving around and he wanted his next move to be permanent—to be with his dad. What he hadn't realized then was that the word "permanent" never applied to Chet Hunter and never would. It wasn't long after Verna came back that his parents started fighting again. She stuck around for several months before deciding she was leaving for good this time. Nothing could change her mind—not Shawn, not the well-intentioned Cory, and sure as hell not her good-for-nothing soon-to-be ex-husband. Chet tried to stick around for Shawn's sake, but not hard enough. He lasted maybe a week before he took off as well. He had been restless the entire time he stayed stationary there. Shawn pretended not to notice, but it was like Chet was a caged bird there. It wasn't that great of a shock when he left.

He didn't tell anyone until he left the Center. It was then John signed the papers Chet had mailed him previously, making the guardianship official and permanent. Shawn didn't fight it this time. Between his dad abandoning him and John coming to the Center with Mr. Matthews to have a serious talk with Mr. Mac—a talk that ended with both John and Mr. Matthews outright threatening the man, only backing off at the mention of a lawsuit—he realized that accepting John's offer was the smart move. They started looking for a bigger place once school let out.

Shawn blinked out of his thoughts and refocused on his friend, or more specifically at the year-old yearbook his fried was studying. "You didn't answer my question," he pointed out. "What's with the yearbook?"

Cory looked up from the book and met his gaze. He had a glazed look, like he had been lost in thought. The fact he kept staring at the same page backed this theory up. He didn't have to know his friend even half as well as he did to tell something was bothering him.

"You know, it's been over a year since Kim Bailey died," Cory said.

"We didn't even really know her."

"I know. It's just . . . she was in our homeroom since 7th grade and just like that, some psychopath just up and decides to kidnap and kill her just because of some stupid Celtic-like necklace she had."

Shawn knew Cory. He cared a lot—sometimes almost too much—but this wouldn't come out of nowhere . . . not after a year. "What brought this on?"

"There was a news special on last night. I caught the end of it before the new _Family Matters_ started. I think what really made it sad was I don't think anyone knew her that well. I was talking to Topanga. She said the girl didn't have any friends."

Shawn vaguely remembered the girl. She was a blond hair, blue eyed beauty who carried herself with this confidence that most girls in their grade had yet to master. It didn't take him long to ask her out, but she turned him down with barely a glance. She was pretty standoffish, from what he recalled. The school had offered counseling services after the cops found her body, but no one seemed to take advantage of the offer. They were all more shocked that something like that happened to someone in their school than they were upset to lose that girl in particular. It didn't surprise Shawn that it bothered Cory, who always placed so much importance on what others thought of him. It was pretty sad, when he thought about it.

"They never caught the person responsible," Cory continued. "The special gave a tally count of how many murders they linked to this serial killer. I can't remember the exact number, but it was a lot."

Shawn stood, closed the book in front of his friend, and pulled it away. "Stop depressing yourself. It's summer. Enjoy it." The two friends looked at one another when they heard excited yelling coming from the next room over. "What's that about?"

"Beats me," Cory said.

They glanced at one another again before rushing to see for themselves.

Mr. Matthews was alternating between hugging his wife and jumping up and down, often bringing her along with him. She seemed just as excited as he was.

"We won. We won," Mr. Matthews said when he saw them standing there.

"Won what?" Cory asked.

"The lottery! We won the jackpot!"

"His employees bought him a ticket for boss's day," Mrs. Matthews explained. The wilderness store had been doing so well within the past few months, they had decided to hire extra help so they could run it for longer hours and he wouldn't have to be there all the time.

"Cool," Cory said. "How much did you win?"

"86 million," Mr. Matthews said.

"_Eighty-six_ . . ." Cory repeated, jumping into the celebration with his parents. "We're rich. We're rich, Shawny, we're rich!"

Shawn stared at him open-mouthed for a minute before the words processed. "We're rich." He opened his arms and went over to join the party. It didn't matter right now that it didn't seem real. If it was a dream, he would be happy for the dream version of his friend. If it were real, here's to hoping they didn't end up in bad shape like so many others who won big. Right now, it was just a happy time with his friend.

The next several days went by in a blur. The Matthews claimed the money. There was only one other winning ticket, so they made it big time with this. Shawn was happy for them. Really, he was, but he just couldn't shake this feeling that something would go wrong. Nothing good in his life ever seemed to last—except for his friendship with Cory and hopefully the guardianship thing with John. True, he wasn't the one who won, but his best friend's family did. Nothing bad ever happened to Cory, though, so everything would be alright. It would have to be.

After claiming the money, Mr. Matthews gave all of his employees nice bonus checks and started planning a nice vacation with his family. Cory insisted both Shawn and Topanga come along, since Shawn was practically his brother and Topanga was practically his wife. His parents didn't take to the wife comment too well. They went into a spiel about how he and Topanga were way too young to be thinking about marriage or anything that went along with it. Shawn chimed in that the two had been married since they were two, so what difference did it make? Cory appeased them all by pointing out that it was just an expression. They were going into their junior year. They hadn't even started talking about tying the knot yet, so everyone could just relax. That crisis averted, the Matthews adopted the "why not" attitude. They certainly had enough money to go around. They could afford to bring extra people along. It was Shawn's idea to drag John into the mix. Mr. and Mrs. Matthews were happy to extend the invite. They liked Jonathan. It would be nice to have another adult they could spend time with. Shawn suspected the real reason they went for it was so they would have extra help with him and the rest of the kids, being outnumbered and all. Whatever the reason, he and John were getting to go on vacation to some exotic island resort somewhere—the Dominion . . . Domino . . . Dorito . . . something Republic. He wasn't complaining.

Before he knew it, the plane landed and he and the gang arrived in paradise. The resort was beautiful. There were palm trees everywhere, pools, restaurants, and all . . . and the best part, their hotel was right on the beach. The sand was so light, it barely even looked brown. The water was a clear-crystal blue. The sun was hot. A gentle breeze blew. It was amazing.

They weren't even there ten minutes before Cory, Shawn, and Topanga were all in their beachwear and soaking up the sun on the sand.

"This is the life, my Shawn," Cory said.

"Yeah, Cor. Sure is," Shawn said as he enjoyed to front row seat to real-life Baywatch babes parading by. Sunglasses were one of the best inventions known to man. He could gawk all he wanted and claim no one had any proof he was looking at them.

"It's so beautiful here," Topanga said. "Cory, if we ever get married, I want to live here or somewhere like here."

"You got it, babe. We'll buy a house on the beach. It'll be great."

"What about me?" Shawn asked.

"You'll get the guest house."

"I can live with that."

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Cory stared down at the wad of cash his dad had given him, Shawn, and Topanga. It was their allowance . . . and boy was it an allowance. He could get used to this.

"So, my favorite two people in the world, what do you want to do? The sky is the limit here people. We can do whatever we want," Cory said.

"Cory," Topanga said, "don't you think you should be responsible with this? I mean, I know it's a lot of money, but it's not unlimited. Haven't you heard all those stories about the people who win big? Many of them end up bankrupt."

"Oh, stop being a buzz kill. It's my parents who have to be responsible. I'm just a kid. They expect me to throw it all away. If I don't, I'll be disappointing some universal status quo."

"Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh. What uh-oh? What could possibly go wrong with this?"

"Oh, here we go," Shawn said.

"Ooh, look! A coconut stand!"

"Remind me why I love him . . . ." Topanga said.

Cory strolled right over to the coconut stand, with his girlfriend and best friend trailing along. "How much are the coconuts?" he asked the stand owner.

"160 pesos."

"160 pesos. That's insane."

"Cory, honey, one American dollar equals 41.50 pesos."

"Oh, well okay then." Cory leafed through the money in his hand and alternated looking between that and the stand. "I'll buy all of them, please. And might as well throw in the stand too."

"_Perdone, señor_?"

Topanga turned on Cory and folded her arms. "What are you going to do with a coconut stand?"

"Well, I'm going to stand by it and eat the coconuts. Duh."

"Why?" Shawn asked.

"Because I can." He ignored the blatant eye rolls from both Topanga and Shawn.

Topanga pulled the money out of Cory's hands and started counting through it. "_Tres, por favor_," she said, handing the correct amount over.

The still confused shopkeeper took the money and handed over the three requested coconuts.

"Three? I believe I asked for all of them."

"Cory, let's go." Topanga grabbed his arm and started pulling him away.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx_

John looked up when he heard the hotel door slam. Shawn came in, clearly agitated about something. The kid ran his hand through his hair, a sign he'd learned meant he was either trying to get a girl's attention or he was upset about something. Considering there weren't any girls around, that only left option number two.

"Shawn, you okay?" he asked.

Shawn glanced at him briefly before going to sit down on one of the chairs by the balcony. John followed along behind him.

"It's Cory. It's like ever since his dad won the stupid lottery he's gone all rich snob on everyone." Shawn looked out the window. "I don't want to lose my best friend, John, but I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

"He just gave a waiter an 830 peso tip after ordering five appetizers, the three most expensive meals on the menu, and every dessert they offered, just because he could. And did I mention he bribed them before we sat down to allow us to skip the wait and get seated at their best table immediately, regardless of the fact other people had been waiting a half hour or more before we even showed up?" Shawn gave a humorless laugh. "He's turning into one of those people I always hated when going out—the ones who won't even look at you, because they think you're no better than the scum they have their servants scrape off the bottom of their shoes."

"Hunter," John started, "Matthews has been your best bud for how many years now? He's not going to look down on you."

"Maybe not yet. But it's not just that. He's not the Cory I grew up with, who painted Feeny's fence to earn some money so he could afford a super soaker and join in with our water wars, only to return it and trade it in for two smaller ones so his dad could have one after his dad fixed the mess of a job Cory had done."

"Have you talked to him about any of this?"

"No." Shawn started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I don't think there's any reasoning with him. I mean the guy tried to buy a coconut stand."

What? John shook his head. He didn't think he even wanted to know. "Well, the way I see it, you can give up without even trying and throw away a lifelong friendship over this or you can talk to him and maybe help him find who he is again." John felt a small sense of victory when Shawn looked up at him. "So, what's it gonna be."

Shawn looked back out the glass doors. "He's never given up on me. I think I owe him a couple hundred second chances."

John caught his gaze again. "Then I'm sure you'll figure out some way to get through to him."

Shawn nodded. "Yeah, I guess I will."

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"Hey, Cor. Can I talk to you a minute?" Shawn hesitantly walked towards his friend. Cory was sitting out on the balcony of his and Eric's shared hotel room.

"Yeah. Sure. What's up?"

Shawn sat down in the chair next to Cory. "I'm not sure if there's a good way to say this or not, so I'm just gonna say it."

"Okay," Cory said. "Should I be worried?"

"You've been a jerk lately."

"What?"Cory stood up and looked down at him. "What did I do? Please, tell me, because I don't have even the slightest—"

"Cory, just think about how you've been acting. You've been throwing that money around like it's nothing."

"It's not like I've been hoarding it. I've been spending it on you and Topanga, too, or have you forgotten?"

"I don't want your stupid money."

Cory looked thoroughly confused for a minute. "Why?"

"Cory, I grew up in a trailer park. We had hardly anything. My parents had to work hard for every penny we had until dad lost his job. I hated it when we were on welfare. I don't want any handouts. You just got lucky. That money just fell into your lap and you're acting like it's yours by right."

"You're jealous."

Shawn stood up to face him at that. "No, I'm not. I just think you've been taking all of this too far."

"No, you're jealous I have money and you don't. You've always been jealous of my family and my house and everything, and now that we're rich, you just can't take it anymore."

"I have John. Things are great. All of that is in the past."

"Then what's all this about, huh?"

"It's about you, Cory, and the snob who replaced my best friend."

"So I'm a snob, now, am I?"

"Yeah. You are."

Shawn watched Cory struggle with that for a bit. "Then if I'm such a snob, get out of here. Snobs don't hang around trailer trash like you."

Shawn just stood there glaring at his friend before finally brushing past him. He didn't look back.

##

Cory leaned his arms on the balcony railing, watching the waves crash against the shore. Who did Shawn think he was? Shawn was the one with the problem, not him. Wasn't he?

He wasn't sure how long he stood there before Topanga joined him. Eric must have let her in. He glanced over at her before returning his gaze to the ocean. "Do you think I'm becoming a snob?"

"Yes." There wasn't even any hesitation. It was just a bluntly honest fact. "Cory, you know I love you. Nothing can change that, but you have gone a bit overboard with all of this."

Cory nodded. "You know, it's strange. When dad first won all that money, I thought that was the best thing that ever happened to us. Now I'm not so sure." He turned to face Topanga. "I think I may have really screwed things up with Shawn."

"No, you didn't," Topanga said. "You owe him an apology, but he knows you weren't really being you. He asked me to talk to you . . . said he thought I might have a better chance at getting through to you than he did."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I think he went for a walk to clear his head."

"Thanks, Topanga." He left to go in search of his friend. He couldn't rely on his knowledge of Shawn's usual hiding spots here, but he knew he could find him anyways. If all else failed, he could wait for him in his hotel room.

He eventually found him after wandering aimlessly on the beach. Shawn was sitting in the sand and writing in a notebook. Probably just the result of another incentive thing from Mr. Turner. He sat down next to him. "What are you writing?"

"Just stuff."

"Cool."

They sat there awkwardly while Cory tried to figure out how to say what he came here to say. "I'm sorry, Shawn. I shouldn't have called you trailer trash. That's not who you are at all. And you were right. I am the world's biggest snob."

"I don't know that I'd call you the world's _biggest_ snob, you'd have a long way to go to get there—more like the world's quirkiest snob." The corner of Shawn's lips quirked up.

"Quirky, huh?"

"Or Corky."

"Huh. So are we cool?"

"Yeah. We're cool."

The two friends sat there for a while, talking about any random topic that popped to mind.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx_

The rest of their vacation week passed without much incident. They just enjoyed it for the amazing trip that it was. Cory had returned to being Cory—a little richer, a little wiser, but Cory, nonetheless. Aside from the private plane Mr. Matthews paid for so they would have a nice trip back to Philly, the rest of the family seemed to be staying true to themselves. Shawn was reluctant to leave when the time came. This little pocket of paradise was the first trip he had ever taken that hadn't involved a road trip in his old trailer. All the same, he guessed it would be nice to get back home.

They arrived at the airport and unloaded all of their suitcases from the shuttle bus. Shawn noticed a couple and who he assumed to be their daughter exiting the shuttle as well. The man kept checking his watch and muttering about how there was no way they would make their plane in time. The woman tried to placate her husband, but she, too, looked frazzled. Their daughter just looked annoyed.

He found himself staring at the girl. Her long black hair was pulled up by one of those hair clamp things. She wore a necklace that looked strangely familiar to him, but he could quite place where he had seen it before. It had some kind of cross symbol in the middle of it, surrounded by wispy spiral like shapes. His blue eyes met her brown ones for a brief moment when she caught him staring. He looked away and went back to looking for his duffle bag.

"According to this, our plane should be close," Mr. Matthews said. He was looking at some official looking papers.

"Do we need to go into the terminal to check in?" Mrs. Matthews asked.

"No, I don't think so. Since it's a private plane, I think we just go there directly and pay the pilot."

"Excuse me, sir, I couldn't help overhearing. Did you say you have a private plane?" Shawn looked over to see the man he had noticed before. He had slightly graying black hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses. The man checked his watch again.

"Gary," the other brunette woman admonished. She turned towards them. "I'm sorry. You'll have to excuse my husband."

"It's okay," Mr. Matthews said. "We do have a private plane. We're heading back to Philadelphia in about a half hour or so."

"Oh, thank God," Gary said. "We're late for our plane back. The flights out of here are booked solid for the next few days. If we don't leave now, we'll be stuck another week. We have to get back home."

"That's our problem, honey. Not theirs. We'll manage," the woman said.

"But what about Daniela?" Gary put his arm around his daughter. For a second, it almost looked like she wanted to shove it off before her expression went blank. "We need to get her back. We don't have health insurance coverage here. We never should have come here in the first place."

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Matthews asked, concerned.

Daniela closed her eyes a moment and swallowed. "It's fine. They're just overreacting. I'm sorry my _parents_ have to be such drama queens."

Gary seemed to tighten his grip on her shoulder. "No, honey, it's not fine. We need to get you back to the hospital. If you miss your scheduled treatment, your condition could worsen. You don't want that, do you?" Daniela frowned. Gary turned back to Mr. Matthews. "Please, sir, if you have any room to spare . . . . I'll pay you whatever you want. I just . . . ." He seemed to choke up. Shawn could swear he saw Daniela roll her eyes. "We need to get her back home."

Everyone just seemed to stare at one another for a while. Mr. and Mrs. Matthews glanced at one another.

"Gary, Daniela, come on," the woman said. "We've wasted enough of their time." The trio started to walk away.

"Alan," Mrs. Matthews prompted.

"Wait," Mr. Matthews said. "We've got room. It's a direct flight, so it should get you back faster." Gary started to pull out his wallet. "Don't worry about it."

"Thank you," Gary said, reaching out to shake Mr. and Mrs. Matthews's hands. "Thank you. I'm Gary Wilson, by the way, and this is my wife, Ellie, and my daughter, Daniela."

"It's Dani," the teen corrected, her smile forced.

They gave introductions all around before looking for their plane. Shawn's jaw almost dropped when they found it. For a private plane, it was pretty big. He'd assume Mr. Matthews rented out a full 747 or something, if he didn't know any better. They boarded the plane and took off in no time.

The inside of the plane, while smaller than it would seem from the outside, was more spacious than the one they came in on. The front of the passenger area looked like an average plane, with slightly less cramped seats than normal. Behind those seats, however, was an area set up more for entertaining. There were plush seats on both sides, facing towards the center. There was a mini-fridge filled with soda and stuff. There was a big screen TV mounted on the wall at the back of the plane. Everyone moved back to this area as soon as the pilot turned off the seat belt sign.

The Wilson family sat awkwardly together, with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson on either side of Dani. Mr. Wilson kept checking his watch and looking out a window behind him. His right hand gripped his carry-on duffel bag. Dani's expression was unreadable, but her posture was stiff, like she was uncomfortable—probably because of whatever medical condition she had, Shawn figured. Mrs. Wilson clutched onto her purse like she wouldn't give it up for anything. Mr. Matthews had tried being gracious and offering to put the duffel bag and purse in the overhead compartments, but they both refused the offer.

The attachment Mrs. Wilson had to her purse was almost unnatural. Sure, he knew some girls could be really possessive about their purses, but this lady was to the point of being insane. She had dropped it on the way into the plane. He bent down to pick it up and give it back to her, but she had snatched it back up before he even had a chance to grab it. He caught a glimpse of something black and shiny—probably a compact or something.

"So, Dani, is it?" Morgan started. "What do you have?"

Before Dani could answer, Mr. Wilson said "Narcolepsy" and Mrs. Wilson said "Epilepsy" at the same time.

"Apparently something that ends with '-epsy,'" Dani said dryly.

Mrs. Wilson gave a forced smile in response. "That's our girl. Despite everything, she's still got a sense of humor."

Mr. Wilson stared at his watch like it was his lifeline or something before glancing back out the window again. "I hate flying," he said when he caught Shawn staring. "It always makes me nervous being this high in the air."

"I used to be the same way," Topanga said. "It's really not that bad. It's actually one of the safest forms of travel."

"Except there's less of a chance of survival if you crash." He glanced down at his watch again before almost immediately covering his mouth. "I think I'm gonna be sick. If you'll excuse me . . . ." He ran back towards the front of the plane to the only bathroom they had, still clutching his duffel bag.

"He's really attached to that thing, isn't he?" Shawn commented to no one in particular.

Mrs. Wilson stared down the direction her husband went. She didn't move for a minute until she seemed to see something she was looking for. She reached into her purse. Dani's posture seemed to become even stiffer than it was before, if that were even possible. Mrs. Wilson stood and pulled out that black shiny thing.

Shawn's eyes widened when he saw what it was. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Cory pull Topanga closer to him and Mr. Matthews grab hold of Mrs. Matthews's hand and move to shield Morgan.

"Hand over the money. All of it," Mrs. Wilson said, pointing the gun unwaveringly at them. The mother and wife vanished, replaced by a steely-eyed criminal.

No one moved. It didn't seem real. It couldn't be real. Stuff like this only happened to other people and in movies and stuff.

"I said hand it over. Now."

Mr. Matthews started fumbling for his wallet. Topanga hid her face in Cory's shoulder. Shawn sought out John. Their eyes met from across the couch.

"Dani, do your thing," Mrs. Wilson said.

As if in slow motion, Dani stood, looking around at all of them. Rather than going towards them, however, she moved to stand between Mrs. Wilson and them.

"What do you think you're doing? We went over this. They won't be around to tell anyone anything, but we will."

"No," Dani said. "You and Gary can go screw yourselves, for all I care. I'm not doing it."

The two stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity. Mrs. Wilson took the safety off of the gun and put her finger back on the trigger. "Stand aside, freak. And don't even think about trying anything. I'll pull this trigger, and you know it."

"Then go ahead and shoot. I'm not budging."

This girl was either insane or she had some kind of death wish. Those were the only two things that made any sense to Shawn in that moment.

Mr. Matthews moved forward, wallet in hand. He put his free hand on Dani's shoulder and gently nudged her aside, keeping his eyes on Mrs. Wilson. "Here. This is all I have. Just please leave my family alone. It's all yours."

Everyone who had any money stepped forward and handed it over.

Mrs. Wilson shoved all of it into her purse before raising her gun back up again. "Get in your seats up front, put your hands where I can see them, and don't move."

They all silently obeyed. Shawn felt a small measure of relief when John joined him. He subconsciously grabbed for his hand.

There was a sudden bout of turbulence. Both John and Shawn reached for their seat belts at the same time. A short while later, the door to the cockpit opened and Mr. Wilson came out, holding another gun with a longer barrel that didn't quite match the rest of the gun.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson quietly talked with one another, on occasion gesturing to them and to Dani. They pulled out parachutes. Mr. Wilson pulled out a cell phone. Didn't those mess with the airplane equipment or something? There was another big turbulence dip. Shawn couldn't catch much of the one-sided conversation over the white-noise from the flight. What little he could catch amounted to something about a boat that was supposed to meet them.

The turbulence was getting stronger. The air masks dropped down from above. Shawn ignored John's attempts to get him to put it on.

The couple strapped on their parachutes and grabbed hold of a third, presumably meant for Dani. They opened a door on the plane, threw the third parachute out, then jumped out themselves.

Dani stumbled over to the open door and struggled to get it closed. Mr. Matthews, being the closest to her, helped her do so. He heard him yelling at Dani to sit down and buckle up before she got hurt. She ignored him and stumbled over to the cockpit door. She slammed into the side wall and clung onto it to help her keep her balance before disappearing through the door.

He looked out the window next to him. It looked like they were losing altitude fast. The plane jerked violently to the side and further downward before seeming to level out some.

He clutched the armrests of his chair. The turbulence kept growing more and more violent as the seconds drew on. He continued to ignore the oxygen mask that hung in front of him. Looking around, it seemed Cory was the only one who even bothered. What was the point? It was almost cruel to be taunting them with something that was supposed to help but would really accomplish so little. He glanced out the window again. The ocean seemed to be getting closer still. They'd all be crashing in the ocean any time now. He shut his eyes, waiting.

There was one final violent bump, then all went still.

* * *

**A/N: **Please let me know what you think. I haven't gotten much chance to revise and polish this yet, so constructive criticism is more than welcome. I should hopefully be able to start posting this story by the end of the summer or early fall, if all goes well. **  
**

Also, all of the information about Dominican Republic currency versus USA currency came from a currency rate calculator. I apologize if any of this is inaccurate. I've never been there, so I've just had to rely on what I found online.


End file.
